^^ 


&£^fc*fe3§fcs 


—          jT~^  **•».      t.    4      J-     V  '    /         %!-"-:       ->        ^      «_.        \^       I        k     "\    *     ~ ^^r 

y  i^rffyp?^  ^;<A^  ^£/^i-A.xw 


'  "-  ---^         --    -••  ;-•  '--  ':.  ^tf 

r      C>  s5   ?/i*av^      ^ 


•f~. 

\T ^-i+^Mtf: 


Z£>i£*f-* 


S$tt&t^?/&f^^  «/^/P^^r^  >  ^  ^  *- f V 

^fi^1^^  i^^^^  W^^i ' 

*%.^^3^C^^^  A^V^^ 

•"   .  ^tr^^^^:^Xl     "... 


^^w^^?^^ 
*>  ix^v  -x >^LW4  vP^ 


,-*"    t 


rA: 


-*•--._/>  V       r-4YL^i^S'* 

?^f^ 

'^^^ 

^^9§vg^^:^ 
ivz^^^^m; 

vk  (^v^o*-;?  ,  .^    r^>  >^o<^*  v>  -^    <vL^ 

%*^^i^f^^ 

'^^y^i^^-^w®^^; 

>X  iixJ^^A     .^t^'' 

*x    •"        -~«,   /   f\** ,   -f         . — ^^     1         ^n 

J* 

-    v 
.    •~»c-1 


m^m^^s^^m^^&^^ 

- 


STEILIIG 


In  material,  workmanship  and  design  the  very  best, 

and  in  richness  and  purity  of  tone  not 

surpassed  by  any. 

Do  not  buy  till  you  have  examined  the  "STERLING," 
its  prices  and  terms. 


FACTORIES. 
DERBY,  CONN. 


MANUFACTURERS'  WAREROOMS. 

No.  179-181  Wabash  Avenue, 

CHICAGO,  ILL. 


THE  STERLING  COMPANY. 


A  $10  Book  for  25  Cents. 

O  O  3XT  :E2L  L  1  3XT  '  ! 

MAITJAL 


—OF— 

USEFUL  INFORMATION. 

THIS  YEAR'S  EDITION  carefully  revised  and  cor- 
rected to  date. 

PRICE,  ONLY  28  CENTS. 

It  Juts  286  PAGES  of  closely  printed  matter,  absolutely 
teeming  with  information  on  2,OOO  subjects. 

IT  COHTAIHS   1,000,000  FACTS, 

AND  MANY  STATISTICAL  TABLES 

Of  practical  value  for  Commercial  Travelers,  Mechanics,  Merchants, 
Editors,  Lawyers,  Doctors,  Printers,  Painters,  Farmers,  Lumbermen, 
Bankers,  Bookkeepers,  Politicians,  Housekeepers,  and  all  classes  of  workers 
in  every  department  of  human  effort;  also  a  compilation  of  facts  for  ready 
reference  that  we  guarantee  can  not  be  had  in  any  other  book  or  books  at 
a  cost  of  less  than  $10.  It  is  an  epitome  of  mattars  Historical,  Statistical, 
Biographical,  Political,  Geographical  and  of  General  Iriterest.  No  one 
who  has  seen  the  book  can  get  along  without  it,  and  those  who  have  a 
copy  of  it  would  not  part  with  it  for  ten  times  its  price. 

AGENTS  WANTED. 

Single  copies  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  25  cents. 

LAIRD  &  LEE,  PUBLISHERS, 

COR.  CLARK  AND  ADAMS  STS.,  CHICAGO^  tSJU 


A  DESPERATE  WOMAN 


A  NOVEL 


BY 

MRS  M   E  HOLMES 

Author  of  "  A  Woman's  Love,"  "  Her  Fatal  Sin,"  "  The  Tragedy  of 

Redmount,"  "  Who  Will  Save  Her?"  "  For  a  Woman's 

Sake," "A  Heartless  Woman,"  Etc. 


COPYRIGHT  1886 
BY  GEORGE  W  OGILVIE 


CHIC  AGO 
LAIED  &  LEE  PUBLISHEKS 

CLARK  AND  ADAMS  STREETS 


6  MYRTLE  BLAKE. 

lecting  pieces  of  burnt  charcoal  from  a  huge  pile 
beside  her,  and  adjusting  them  to  crayon  size, 
moved  mechanically,  while  the  dust-stained  face 
showed  a  hollow  pallor  where  the  tears  had  coursed 
from  eyes  blinded  to  all  save  some  cankering 
thought  and  the  harrowing  pictures  which  filled  the 
desolate  void  before  her  vision. 

To  this  unhappy  creature,  doubly  unhappy  and 
wretched  upon  that  cheerless  Saturday  night,  a 
name  had  been  bestowed  which  had  become  famil- 
iar to  her.  Sometimes  in  romantic  badinage,  oft- 
ener  in  sorrowful  earnest,  as  they  watched  her 
dainty  fingers  become  marred  and  blackened  with 
the  burnt  pieces  of  wood,  the  working  girls  about 
her  had  called  her  Cinderella. 

It  had  clung  to  Myrtle  Blake  like  the  fine  black 
dust  of  the  work-room;  it  had  suggested  so  much 
of  childhood's  memories  of  the  famed  fairy  story, 
that  she  had  answered  to  it  first  with  a  smile,  then 
with  a  sigh,  and  finally  with  a  despairing  thought 
that  only  the  misery  and  solitude  of  the  Cinderella 
of  fiction  would  be  hers,  in  a  hard  struggle  for 
bread  for  herself  and  her  dying  mother. 

She  dropped  the  box  into  which  she  was  placing 
the  artist's  crayons,  started  as  from  a  painful  rev- 
erie, and  looked  toward  the  little  dark  staircase 
leading  into  the  apartment  where  she  sat. 

"  Drella!  " 

A  girl's  voice  had  pronounced  her  name,  a  girl's 
form  crossed  her  vision. 

"  You  are  wanted,"  spoke  the  new-comer,  a  re- 
pressed excitement  in  her  manner,  "  at  home.  One 
of  your  neighbors'  boys  just  brought  a  message. " 

Myrtle  Blake  arose  to  her  feet  in  quick  alarm. 
Even  beneath  the  grime  of  the  dust,  her  face  turned 
a  shade  whiter. 

"  My  mother,"  she  gasped  out;  "  she  is  worse?" 

The  girl  shook  her  head  quickly  and  negatively. 


MYRTLE  BLAKE.  / 

"  No,  it  is  not  that,  I  think;  something  about  the 
rent." 

She  paused  confusedly.  A  pitying  expression 
came  into  her  eyes  as  Cinderella  interrupted  her. 

"  The  rent,"  broke  bitterly  from  Myrtle  Blake's 
lips.  "  It  is  as  I  feared.  The  blow  has  fallen  at 
last.  Thank  you,  Kitty,"  she  murmured  brokenly 
to  her  companion  who  stood  regarding  her  sorrow- 
fully. "  I  must  hasten  home  at  once. " 

She  hurried  from  the  apartment  as  she  spoke. 
She  only  stopped  long  enough  in  the  waiting-room 
to  remove  the  traces  of  her  work  from  her  face,  to 
shake  out  the  long  golden  curls  from  a  protecting 
dust  cap,  discard  the  dirt-grimed  working  dress, 
and  then  she  proceeded  to  the  office  of  the  estab- 
lishment. 

A  fairer  face,  with  its  glorious  crown  of  golden 
curling  hair,  and  the  blue  fawnlike  eyes,  never 
looked  forth  to  mortal  view.  For  its  innocence, 
however,  the  grasping  cashier  had  only  a  frown  as 
Cinderella  timidly  appeared  at  the  window  of  his 
desk. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  now?  "  he  demanded  gruffly. 

"  My  money,  sir." 

Grasp  &  Throttle's  cashier  regarded  her  in  cold- 
blooded stolidity. 

"  Your  money,  and  the  work  not  done.  You 
don't  mean  to  say  you'll  leave  us  in  the  lurch  with 
all  that  stock  of  crayons  to  get  out." 

"  I  must,  sir.  It  is  only  an  hour's  more  work,  any- 
way, and  I  must  hurry  home.  See,  sir,  my  mother 
is  sick,  dying  perhaps,  and  the  rent " 

She  broke  down  in  irrepressible  sobs  and  tears. 
Every  human  face  seemed  to  wear  a  mask  of  indif- 
ference and  heartlessness. 

"Pay  her." 

Grasp,  senior  member  of  the  firm,  grunted  out 
the  words  from  his  desk  without  looking  up.  The 


8  MYRTLE  BLAKE. 

cashier  reluctantly  told  out  the  amount  as  he  held 
it  in  his  talons-like  fingers. 

"  It  is  half  a  dollar  more,"  began  Cinderella. 

"  Not  when  you  leave  work  this  way." 

Myrtle  Blake  choked  down  her  disappointment 
and  grief.  With  a  despairing  sigh  she  took  up  the 
paltry  pittance  and  hastened  to  the  street  without. 

"  Three  dollars  and  a  half, "  she  gasped,  brokenly. 
"  Not  even  enough  to  pay  what  is  due.  Will  Bryce 
Williard  carry  his  threat  into  effect  and  turn  us  out 
into  the  cold  and  storm?  Oh!  merciful  Father, 
show  me  some  way  to  protect  my  darling,  dying 
mother  from  the  cruel  fate  that  threatens. " 

Her  tears  rivaled  the  glistening  snowflakes  as 
they  fell  from  beneath  her  thin,  unsheltering  veil; 
her  hands  were  clasped  pitifully  as  she  flew  over  the 
pavement;  her  face  was  a  void  of  anxiety  and  de- 
spair as  at  last  she  turned  into  a  desolate  tenement 
street. 

The  building  which  she  finally  entered  was  dilap- 
idated and  illy  protected  against  the  storm  and  cold. 
Its  doorless  front  and  broken  windows  made  the 
halls  cold  and  uninviting,  yet  here  for  nearly  two 
months  Myrtle  Blake  and  her  mother  had  made 
their  home,  subsisting  on  the  bare  necessaries  of 
life,  the  mother  stricken  with  consumption,  the 
ddjghter  unable  to  obtain  work  until  the  preceding 
week. 

The  girl's  hand  trembled  as  she  turned  the  knob 
of  a  door  on  the  second  flight  and  entered  a  room 
scantily  furnished.  Upon  a  low  couch  in  one  cor- 
ner of  the  apartment,  revealed  dimly  in  the  dusky 
light  of  the  dying  day,  lay  a  thin,  wasted  form. 

"  Mother!" 

Myrtle  Blake  flung  herself  at  the  side  of  the 
couch,  and  raised  the  pale,  cold  face  of  the  invalid 
to  gaze  anxiously  into  its  hollow  depths.  She  read 


MYRTLE  BLAKE.  9 

a  change  since  morning,  a  latent  excitement  in  the 
hectic  cheeks  that  told  of  some  recent  cause. 

"  You  sent  for  me,"  she  murmured.  "You  are 
not  worse?  " 

"  No,  no;  it  was  not  for  myself  I  sent.  Bryce 
Williard,  the  landlord's  agent,  he  has  been  here 
again.  He  is  in  the  building  now." 

Cinderella  uttered  a  cry  of  despair. 

"  And  he  threatens "  she  wailed. 

"  That  he  will  turn  us  out  this  hour  unless  the  rent 
is  paid.  Oh,  Myrtle,  Myrtle,  what  is  the  cause  of 
this  man's  cruel  persecution?  " 

Myrtle  Blake  arose  to  her  feet  as  footsteps 
sounded  in  the  hall  without. 

"The  cause!"  her  eyes  flashing  with  honest 
indignation  and  emotion.  "  Can  you  ask?  He  is 
a  human  fiend,  who  crushes  the  poor,  who  has  de- 
termined to  crush  us  because  I  resented  his  insult- 
ing words  and  ordered  him  from  the  place.  He 
shall  be  paid  his  rent.  I  have  work  now,  and  he 
dares  not  turn  us  out  as  long  as  we  can  pay  what 
we  owe  him." 

The  door  had  opened  as  she  spoke.  A  man, 
whose  dark,  sinister  face  and  crafty,  gleaming  eyes 
told  of  the  villain  and  schemer,  entered  the  apart- 
ment. 

He  started  slightly  and  frowned  as  he  saw  the 
girl  standing  protectingly  by  her  mother's  bedside. 
Then  a  gloating,  sensual  expression  crossed  his 
dark  face,  and  he  said: 

"  Ah,  you  are  here!  I  have  just  told  your  mother 
that  I  can  wait  no  longer  for  the  rent. " 

"  Here  it  is.     Now  go." 

It  was  the  last  penny  she  had  in  the  world,  yet 
Myrtle  Blake  flung  it  at  the  cruel  agent  with  a  royal 
contempt  and  dignity  that  made  the  wretch  tremble 
with  rage. 

"  Three  dollars  and  a  half,"  he  muttered  between 


IO  MYRTLE  BLAKE. 

his  set  teeth.  "  Very  well,  my  haughty  lady.  That 
settles  up  to  the  first  of  last  month.  Now,  then, 
the  balance. " 

She  reeled  where  she  stood  at  the  venomous 
words,  at  the  latent  threatening  triumph  in  Bryce 
Williard's  voice. 

"  The  balance,"  she  faltered.  "  You  must  wait 
for  that." 

The  man  glided  to  her  side. 

"  Not  a  day,  not  an  hour,"  he  hissed.  "  The  law 
says  pay  or  go.  You  fool,  will  you  see  your 
mother  starve  and  die?  Will  you  linger  in  poverty 
when  you  might  be  comfortable  and  rich  if  you 
would  only  agree  to  be  mine?  You'll  come  to  it 
yet.  I  love  you.  Consent " 

"You  co  ward!  " 

She  had  raised  her  clenched  hands  with  a  cry  of 
awful  anger;  she  beat  back  the  leering,  gloating 
face  with  all  her  woman's  strength  at  the  venomous 
insult  of  the  sordid  Williard. 

He  ground  his  teeth  with  a  snarling  oath.  He 
caught  her  hands  in  a  grasp  like  iron., 

"  You  shall  be  mine,"  he  hissed  vindictively. 

"Help!" 

Her  voice  died  in  a  gurgling  moan,  mingled  with 
the  feeble  shriek  of  her  terrified  mother.  She  sank 
back  to  a  chair,  white  and  listless. 

"Fainted,  eh?"  muttered  Williard.  "She's 
plucky  to  the  last;  but  I'll  win  her  pretty  face  yet. 
Bartels?" 

He  had  gone  to  the  door  and  called  a  man's 
name.  Its  possessor,  a  rough-visaged  fellow,  en- 
tered, cap  in  hand. 

"  Move  them  out!  "  came  determinedly  from  the 
villain's  lips.  "  The  old  woman  will  be  taken  in  by 
some  of  the  neighbors." 

"And  the  girl?" 

"  Tell  the  people  if  they  dare   to   shelter  or  aid 


MYRTLE  BLAKE.  II 

her,  I'll  serve  them  the  same.     They're   all  in  my 
debt,  and  won't  dare  to  disobey." 

"  But  the  legality  of  the  proceeding?  " 

.Williard  laughed  sardonically. 

"  Don't  fret  about  the  proceeding  being  legal. 
Might  makes  right,  when  the  poor  haven't  money 
enough  to  litigate.  Move  them  out,  I  tell  you." 

Mrs.  Blake  strove  to  lift  herself  to  appeal  to  the 
inhuman  wretch  to  refrain  from  his  brutal  work. 
He  paid  no  attention  to  her,  but  proceeded  to  aid 
Bartels  in  moving  out  the  articles  of  furniture. 
When  they  at  last  came  to  the  couch  upon  which 
the  sick  woman  lay,  her  silence  and  repose  told  of 
utter  insensibility. 

Myrtle  Blake  awoke  to  consciousness  with  a 
startled  scream.  Not  a  single  article  of  furniture 
remained  in  the  apartment.  A  cold  horror  pos- 
sessed her  heart  as  she  realized  it  all.  Then  she 
dashed  out  into  the  hall  and  down  the  stairs  like 
one  mad. 

A  woman  stopped  her  at  the  landing,  pale  and 
frightened. 

"  Your  mother  is  in  my  rooms,  Miss,  and  she  seems 
very  sick.  Oh,  that  cruel,  heartless  Williard!.  He 
is  a  demon  in  human  form." 

The  woman  led  the  way  to  her  own  apartments 
and  pointed  to  where  the  couch  of  the  invalid  had 
been  placed. 

Mrs.  Blake's  thin  fingers  clung  agitatedly  to 
Myrtle's  trembling  hand  as  she  hastened  to  her 
side.  There  was  a  wild  glow  in  her  eyes,  an  un- 
natural flush  on  the  wasted  cheeks. 

"  Myrtle,"  she  gasped  faintly,  "  listen  to  me,  for 
I  feel  that  I  am  dying.  Your  father,  from  whom 
we  have  had  no  word,  who  disappeared  when  you 
were  a  child,  there  is  a  trace  of  him  at  last.  Oh, 
this  terrible  pain!  Water,  water!  " 

She  was  compelled  to  wait,  gasping  for  breath, 


12  MYRTLE  BLAKE. 

for  some  moments.  Myrtle,  with  staring  eyes,  lis- 
tened eagerly/  Was  this  some  vagary  of  the  sinking 
soul?  Often  she  had  heard  her  mother  refer  to  her 
father's  mysterious  disappearance  in  her  childhood, 
but  except  the  memory  of  that  father's  love,  and  a 
little  golden  locket  and  chain  about  her  neck,  con- 
taining two  portraits  and  ,a  memorandum  of  her 
birth  in  her  father's  handwriting,  she  knew  but 
little. 

"  A  letter  came  while  you  were  gone,"  went  on 
Mrs.  Blake,  painfully.  "  Amid  the  excitement,  I 
could  not  tell  you.  It  was  from  John  Blake,  your 
father,  in  trouble,  under  a  cloud,  but  wishing  to  see 
you  to  tell  you  a  mighty  secret  —  merciful  heavens, 
it  is  gone!" 

The  wan  face  fell  as  the  thin  hand  sought  the 
cherished  epistle  in  her  dress. 

"  Gone!"  cried  Myrtle.  "  You  have  lost  it;  but 
its  contents?" 

A  wild  shriek  of  excitement  issued  from  Mrs. 
Blake's  lips. 

"  He  has  it!  Bryce  Williard  has  robbed  me  of 
even  that.  Seek  him,  force  him  to  return  it,  or  he 
will  do  us  a  still  deeper  injury.  Wrest  it  from  him, 
or  have  him  apprehended  as  a  thief." 

Amid  her  wild  excitement  the  invalid  lifted  her- 
self to  a  sitting  posture.  The  reaction  was  a  fatal 
one,  for  she  fell  back,  gasping  for  breath,  as  Myrtle 
moved  to  obey  her  mandate. 

A  choking  sob  rent  the  bloodless  lips  of  the  un- 
happy girl  as  she  reached  the  little  yard  at  the  rear 
of  the  place.  Scattered  around  promiscuously  was 
the  furniture  of  their  humble  home,  and  standing 
guard  over  it  was  the  mercenary  Williard. 

A  half-frightened,  silent  throng  peered  from  the 
open  doorways  at  the  scene,  evading  the  threaten- 
ing of  Bryce  Williard,  the  hated  agent,  whose 
lightest  word  might  render  them  homeless.  Honest 


MYRTLE  BLALE.  13 

sympathy  for  the  unfortunate  ones  was  depicted  on 
more  than  one  homely  face. 

Myrtle  Blake  went  straight  to  the  side  of  Williard. 

"  You  have  rendered  us  homeless,"  she  choked 
out.  "  You  have  carried  out  the  law,  and  you  have 
robbed  us.  Bryce  Williard,  I  demand  from  you  the 
letter  my  mother  received  half  an  hour  since,  stolen 
from  her  when  she  lay  insensible." 

The  villain  turned  a  sneering  face  on  his  beauti- 
ful suppliant. 

"  A  letter!     What  letter?"  he  demanded. 

"  You  know  well  enough.  Your  evil  face  cannot 
conceal  the  truth.  The  letter,  Bryce  Williard,  or  I 
will  have  you  arrested  " 

For  a  moment  the  man  was  silent.  Every  evil 
trait  of  his  nature  —  passion,  revenge,  hate  —  were 
depicted  in  his  dark  features,  as  he  fixed  a  terrible 
glance  upon  her;  but  she  never  quailed. 

"  You'll  have  me  arrested!"  he  hissed  out.  "  Take 
care,  girl.  You  have  refused  my  honorable  ad- 
vances; but  I  have  sworn  to  drive  you  to  accept 
me,  and  I  will  gain  my  object.  You  get  no  letter 
from  me.  You  will  be  driven  out  homeless  and 
friendless  this  very  hour  unless  you  agree  to  become 
mine." 

A  shudder  of  repugnance  that  thrilled  Bryce 
Williard  to  the  keenest  rage  crossed  the  fair,  proud 
face.  She  turned  from  him  with  a  determined  light 
in  her  eyes. 

"  By  heavens,  you  shall  go  with  me!"  he  cried, 
catching  at  her  arm,  his  hand  coming  in  contact 
with  the  little  golden  chain  upon  her  fair  neck,  and 
tearing  it  away  as  he  spoke.  Myrtle  noted  not  the 
action,  but  struggled  wildly  to  free  herself,  as  he 
caught  her  waist  with  his  other  hand. 

"  The  carriage,  Bartds!  Is  it  still  in  front?"  he 
demanded. 

"Yes." 


14  MYRTLE  BLAKE. 

He  dragged  Myrtle  across  the  yard,  amid  her 
shrieks  and  excitement.  Neither  had  noticed  a  new 
arrival;  neither  had  heard  the  jingle  of  merry  sleigh- 
bells. 

"  Release  me,  fiend,  monster;  you  shall  be  pun- 
ished for  this.  Help!  help!  help!" 

Bryce  Williard  pressed  his  hand  over  her  mouth 
and  dragged  her  toward  the  gateway.  A  startled 
ejaculation  broke  from  his  lips,  and  he  released  his 
hold,  as  he  reeled  under  a  terrible  blow. 

Down  like  a  shot  he  went,  prostrate  upon  the 
ground.  One  flitting  glance  he  had  of  a  handsome 
young  face,  bent  darkly  indignantly  upon  his  own, 
of  a  manly  form  catching  to  a  sheltering  embrace 
the  half-fainting  Myrtle  Blake. 

"  You  scoundrel,  lie  there!" 

The  man  who  had  delivered  the  blow  and  rescued 
the  imperiled  Myrtle  from  the  villain's  grasp  seemed 
choking  with  indignation  and  rage. 

"Villain!"  he  cried,  "but  for  this  poor  girl,  I 
would  thrash  you  within  an  inch  of  your  life.  This 
ends  your  being  employed  as  my  uncle's  agent. 
Go,  ere  I  punish  you  as  you  deserve." 

Myrtle  Blake  had  cast  but  one  grateful  look  at 
her  rescuer,  to  recognize  him  as  Percy  Grey,  the 
nephew  of  the  owner  of  the  tenements.  Twice  she 
had  seen  him  before.  Pride  had  shrank  from  telling 
him  of  her  utter  poverty  once,  but  her  misery  had 
caused  her  to  give  way  to  her  emotions  now,  and, 
her  golden  head  pillowed  on  his  breast,  she  wept 
like  a  child. 

"  My  poor  girl,"  murmured  Percy  Grey,  brokenly. 
"  Heaven  keep  the  unfortunate  from  such  men  as 
Bryce  Williard.  Little  does  my  uncle  suspect  his 
true  character;  but  this  terminates  his  employment. 
Let  me  lead  you  to  the  house." 

He  signaled  the  occupant  of  an  elegant  sleigh 
outside  to  wait,  spoke  a  few  words  in  a  stern, 


A  FATEFUL  SECRET.  1$ 

menacing  tone  to  Bartels  to  replace  the  furniture 
in  the  vacant  rooms,  and  crossed  the  threshold  of 
the  structure  with  Myrtle. 

The  woman  who  had  befriended  her  mother 
stood  weeping  at  the  door  of  her  room.  Myrtle 
cast  one  quick,  anxious  glance  at  her  face.  Then 
she  stepped  across  the  floor  and  flung  herself  be- 
side the  couch. 

In  a  paroxysm  of  emotion,  the  floodgates  of  the 
soul  released  at  last,  she  wailed  over  and  over  again 
her  mother's  beloved  name,  imploring  her  to  speak 
to  her,  to  arouse  from  the  spell  of  lethargy  into 
which  she  seemed  to  have  sunk. 

Percy  Grey  moved  toward  the  couch  reverently, 
with  shadowed  face.  His  hand  touched  the  pulse- 
less brow  of  the  invalid,  and  he  started.  Then  it 
fell  to  the  golden  head  of  Myrtle,  as  if  in  a  silent 
benediction. 

"Mother,  oh,  mother,  speak  to  me!"  wailed 
Myrtle. 

"  My  poor  girl,  you  call  in  vain!  "  broke  from 
Percy  Grey's  lips.  "  God  of  the  orphans,  be  mer- 
ciful to  this  stricken  child!  Your  mother  is  dead." 


CHAPTER  II. 

A    FATEFUL   SECRET. 

THE  rage  of  a  demon  was  pictured  in  Bryce 
Williard's  face,  as  he  struggled  to  his  feet  and  glared 
after  Percy  Grey  and  the  rescued  Myrtle. 

"Baffled!"  he  hissed  out.  "Ruined  through 
that  girl.  I  played  a  bold  game  and  I  have  lost." 

He  did  not  wait  to  listen  to  the  grating  jeers  of 
the  tenants.  He  ground  his  teeth,  clenched  his 
hands,  passed  out  of  the  broken  gate,  and  set  his 
steps  in  the  deepening  dusk  to  leave  the  vicinity  as 
soon  as  possible. 


16  A   FATEFUL   SECRET. 

"Williard!" 

He  stopped  abruptly.  What  he  had  not  noticed 
before  he  discovered  now.  Percy  Grey  on  a  drive 
for  pleasure  had  taken  the  whim  to  pass  by  the 
tenements,  and  the  sleigh,  with  its  richly  capari- 
soned steeds,  stood  where  he  had  left  it  when  he 
hastened  to  the  rescue  of  Myrtle  Blake.  He  had  a 
companion  in  his  drive.  A  woman  marvelously 
beautiful,  but  of  a  type  strongly  contrasting  with 
that  of  the  pure,  innocent  Myrtle  Blake,  sat  hold- 
ing the  lines.  There  was  a  jealous  expression  in 
the  eyes  fixed  upon  the  doorway  through  which 
Percy  Grey  and  Myrtle  had  just  passed,  a  quiver 
of  the  red  lips,  which  told  of  the  deepest  emotion. 

She  beckoned  to  Willard  with  an  imperative  hand. 
She  fixed  her  dark,  searching  eyes  upon  him  as  he 
came  forward  with  ready  alacrity. 

"  What  has  happened?  "  she  demanded  in  hushed 
tones. 

"  The  worst.  Curse  that  girl  and  your  meddling 
Grey.  How  came  he  here  at  this  time  to  spoil  my 
well-laid  plans?  " 

"  You  fool!"  muttered  the  woman,  "have  you  no 
more  sense  than  to  ruin  the  chances  I  secured  for 
you  by  attempting  to  kidnap  a  girl  in  broad  day- 
light? " 

"  It's  ended  now;  chances  and  all,"  sullenly  re- 
plied Williard;  "  but  I'll  have  the  girl  yet,  and  I'll 
get  my  revenge  on  Percy  Grey  through  her." 

"Who  is  that  girl?" 

An  interested  light  came  into  Williard's  eyes  as 
he  studied  the  siren-like  face  before  him. 

"Ah!"  he  cried,  mockingly,  "  I  understand  you 
now.  Jealous,  eh?  Well,  between  your  chances 
of  winning  Percy  Grey  and  yonder  girl's,  I  pro- 
nounce in  favor  of  the  latter." 

A  deadly  flash  came  into  Blanche  Vansant's 
face. 


A   FATEFUL  SECRET.  I 7 

"  Do  not  trifle  with  me/''  she  murmured  hotly. 
"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  That  not  content  with  being  Ansel  Grey's  sec- 
retary, you  wish  to  be  his  nephew's  bride.  Well 
and  good;  but  if  I  mistake  not,  Percy  Grey's  pre- 
vious visits  here  indicate  a  preference  for  the  pale- 
faced  beauty  I  have  sworn  to  gain." 

Even  beneath  the  dusky  color  of  the  beautiful 
face  a  deep  pallor  settled  as  she  set  her  lips  tightly. 

"  Bryce  Williard,"  she  whispered,  touching  his 
hand  tremblingly  with  her  gloved  one,  "  I  love 
Percy  Grey  as  I  do  my  own  soul,  and  I  would  mur- 
der yonder  pale-faced  child  ere  I  saw  him  won  from 
me.  What  do  you  know  of  her?  " 

"  Nothing  except  that  she  is  marvelously  fair  and 
—  hold!  Blanche  Vansant,  you  and  I  have  mutual 
secrets  and  mutual  interests.  You  are  jealous  of 
this  girl,  I  of  Percy  Grey.  Will  you  aid  me  to 
carry  out  my  plans  if  I  pledge  myself  to  cure  him 
of  any  fancy  he  may  have  for  Myrtle  Blake?" 

"  Try  me,"  replied  the  woman,  excited. 

"  Then  meet  me  to-night  at  eight  o'clock  at  the 
Apollo  Concert  Rooms.  I  think  I  know  a  way  to 
gain  my  point  yet.  Ha!  Grey  is  coming." 

He  was  coming,  and  Williard  heard  the  woman 
murmur  a  quick  assent  as  Percy  Grey  came  hastily 
toward  the  sleigh. 

"  You  can  drive  home,  if  you  wish,  Miss  Van- 
sant," he  said  in  an  agitated  tone.  "  There  is 
misery  in  yonder  house  that  demands  my  attention. 
Please  inform  my  uncle  that  I  shall  be  detained  for 
some  time." 

The  woman  bowed  silently.  There  was  a  venge- 
ful click  of  her  white,  regular  teeth  as  she  touched 
up  the  spirited  steeds. 

"  He  loves  the  girl  they  call  Myrtle  Blake.  He 
is  at  least  deeply  interested  in  her,"  murmured  the 
siren  hissingly.  "  Oh,  Percy,  Percy!  for  one  kindly 

Desperate  2. 


1 3  A   FATEFUL   SECRET. 

embrace,  such  as  you  bestowed  upon  her,  I  would 
give  my  very  soul!" 

She  whipped  up  the  horses  to  a  reckless  rate  of 
speed  to  keep  pace  with  her  wayward  thoughts. 
The  biting  wind,  the  thrilling  exercise  of  driving, 
aroused  her  blood  to  fever  heat,  vying  in  its 
intensity  with  the  surging  emotions  of  her  passion- 
ate heart. 

She  loved  Percy  Grey.  When,  two  months  pre- 
viously, she  had  become  secretary  to  his  crochety 
old  uncle,  the  grand  old  mansion  had  no  charms 
for  her  when  Percy  was  absent.  His  treatment  of 
her  had  been  that  of  ordinary  respect  and  courtesy, 
yet  she  had  hoped  that  the  occasional  drives  he  in- 
vited her  to  might  lead  to  a  better  understanding, 
for  she  believed  him  heart  free. 

Until  now!  Now,  with  woman's  ready  tact,  she 
divined  the  reason  of  his  abstracted  manner  for  two 
days  past.  Her  own  aspiring  mind  knew  that 
wealth  might  descend  to  poverty  for  love's  sweet 
sake,  and  she  thought  of  her  meeting  with  Williard 
with  hope  and  impatience.  They  had  been  schemers 
in  the  past,  and  she  had  secured  for  him  the  posi- 
tion he  now  held. 

The  dark  secrets  of  years  agone  made  them 
mutually  friendly.  With  elements  of  love  and  re- 
venge to  urge  on  the  crafty  Williard,  she  believed 
she  should  yet  win  her  way. 

She  reached  her  own  room  in  the  elegant  avenue 
mansion,  and  assuming  a  more  modest  attire,  de- 
scended to  the  library.  The  thin,  selfish  face  of 
Ansel  Grey  betokened  no  interest  as  she  informed 
him  of  Percy's  absence.  She  chilled  apprehen- 
sively, however,  as  he  said  finally,  in  a  cold,  steady 
tone: 

"Sit  down." 

He  had  turned  over  a  pile  of  papers  at  his 
hand. 


A   FATEFUL  SECRET.  19 

"  The  letters  you  wrote  for  me  to  the  Cincinnati 
agents  have  brought  no  satisfactory  answers,"  he 
said.  "  They  must  be  seen  personally." 

A  quick  light  came  into  Blanche's  dark  face. 

"  Why  not  send  Mr.  Grey,  your  nephew?"  she 
insinuated  vaguely,  seeing  in  his  absence  an  oppor- 
tunity for  Williard  to  carry  out  his  plans. 

"  Your  suggestion  is  a  good  one.  I  will  send 
Percy.  As  to  yourself,  Miss  Vansant,  I  am 
sorry  to  state  that  I  shall  have  to  dispense  with 
your  services." 

Blanche  Vansant  recoiled  with  a  shock. 

"  Dispense  with  my  services?"  she  gasped  out. 

"  Yes,  as  soon  as  we  have  gone  through  the  re- 
maining papers  here,  which  may  possibly  consume 
a  week's  time.  I  intend  to  travel  for  my  health, 
and  Percy  can  manage  my  affairs  during  my 
absence." 

Blanche  Vansant  murmured  unintelligibly  and 
arose  to  her  feet.  She  was  sick  at  heart,  alarmed, 
dismayed.  To  leave  that  mansion  now  might 
defeat  her  every  hope  and  aspiration.  Once 
separated  from  Percy  Grey,  the  frail  chance  of 
ordinary  friendship  would  be  severed  forever. 

A  bitter  sigh  broke  from  her  lips  as  she  closed 
the  library  door.  It  was  followed  by  a  jealous 
glare  in  her  deep  set  eyes  as  she  glided  to  an 
alcove.  Percy  Grey  had  entered  the  corridor  and 
was  proceeding  to  his  apartments.  One  glance  at 
his  face  verified  all  Bryce  Williard  had  said,  for 
beneath  its  serious,  thoughtful  expression  were  a 
latent  sentiment  of  newly  awakened  interest,  a 
meditative  gleam  in  the  clear,  open  eyes,  that  told 
that  his  thoughts  were  tender  ones. 

She  oaused  as  he  addressed  her,  murmuring  a 
formal  apology  for  having  left  her  to  drive  home 
alone. 
,  The  dark-eyed  siren  listened  with  her  most  be- 


3O  A  FATEFUL  SECRET. 

witching  smile,  but  her  brow  darkened  as  with  an 
abstracted  air  Percy  Grey  proceeded  to  his  apart- 
ment. 

"  She  has  trapped  him  with  her  innocent  ways, 
and  pretty  face,"  hissed  the  siren  darkly.  "  Oh,  I 
must  not  lose  this  golden  opportunity  of  love  and 
wealth.  Eight  o'clock,"  she  continued,  glancing  at 
her  watch.  "  Williard  will  be  waiting  for  me.  He 
must  aid  me  to  remove  the  girl  from  my  path,  to 
enable  me  to  carry  out  my  cherished  plans." 

She  emerged  from  the  house  by  a  side  entrance, 
her  form  well  concealed  by  a  long  cloak,  a  veil 
hiding  her  face.  The  appointment  with  Williard 
was  a  mile  way,  but  she  traversed  the  distance 
rapidly.  It  was  a  popular  restaurant,  and  she 
found  Williard  seated  at  a  table  in  an  obscure 
corner  of  the  place  and  awaiting  her  impatiently. 

She  was  curious  at  the  smile  of  secret  satisfaction 
on  his  sinister  face  as  he  addressed  her. 

"  It  is  well  you  came,"  he  said.  "  There  is  no 
time  to  lose.  Blanche  Vansant,  I  promised  to  aid 
you  for  mutual  cooperation  in  my  plans.  The 
opportunity  for  a  master  stroke  has  come. " 

"  What  mean  you?  " 

"That  what  affects  this  girl,  Myrtle  Blake, 
affects  Percy  Grey,  for  his  attention  to  her  this 
afternoon  shows  plainly  that  he  is  deeply  interested 
in  her. 

Blanche  Vansant's  lips  trembled  visibly. 

"  He  befriended  her?  "  she  demanded  huskily. 

"  He  reinstated  her  in  the  old  rooms,  provided 
for  every  want,  assumed  the  care  of  her  mother's 
funeral.  He  loves  her;  he  is  fool  enough  to  make 
her  his  wife. " 

"  It  shall  never  be!" 

Williard  laughed  gleefully. 

"  No,  it  will  never  be,  because  within  forty-eight 
hours  he  shall  believe  her  anything  but  the  innocent 


A  FATEFUL  SECRET.  21 

child  she  appears,  because  I  shall  carry  out  my 
plans.  Now,  listen.  This  afternoon  a  letter  came 
to  Mrs.  Blake.  It  was  from  the  husband  she  be- 
lieved dead,  and  has  not  seen  for  many  long  years. 
I  found  that  letter.  The  mother  is  dead,  and  the 
daughter  knows  nothing  of  its  contents. " 

"  How  can  that  affect  us?  " 

"  Be  patient  and  you  shall  know.  The  letter 
begged  the  mother  to  come  or  send  her  daughter 
to  a  little  boat-house  on  the  banks  of  the  river. 
I  went  instead.  I  found  John  Blake.  I  pretended 
to  be  a  messenger  from  his  family.  I  promised  to 
send  to  him  his  child  this  very  hour,  to  learn  from 
his  dying  lips  a  secret  he  would  not  impart  to  me, 
for  it  affects  a  royal  fortune. " 

The  woman's  eyes  became  interested. 

"  Well,"  she  demanded,  "  you  promised  him, 
and  you  intend " 

"  That  the  secret  shall  be  ours,  important  or  not, 
for  it  enables  a  better  knowledge  of  Myrtle  Blake 
and  her  father's  affairs.  You  must  personate 
Myrtle  Blake  and  learn  John  Blake's  secret  from 
his  dying  lips." 

The  other  started  violently. 

"  I,"  she  cried  vaguely.  "  The  deception  would 
be  discovered." 

"  After  over  ten  years'  absence  from  his  child? 
No,  trust  me  for  that.  Here's  the  necklace  John 
Blake  gave  his  daughter.  Wear  it.  Do  as  I  bid 
you  and,  believe  me,  you  will  meet  with  a  surprise 
that  will  aid  you  in  your  scheme  to  secure  Percy 
Grey." 

There  was  a  crafty  expression  in  Williard's  eyes 
as  he  spoke.  The  woman  was  about  to  question 
him,  but  he  said,  abruptedly: 

"  Are  you  willing?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  come." 


22  A  FATEFUL  SECRET. 

He  led  the  way  from  the  place  as  he  spoke  and 
strolled  toward  the  deserted  thoroughfare  leading 
to  the  river.  They  at  last  reached  the  verge  of  the 
desolate  dock  and  proceeded  to  a  spot  a  few  rods 
down  the  shore. 

"  Do  not  falter,"  he  breathed  intensely,  as  he 
left  her  side.  "  It  is  the  first  step  toward  the 
attainment  of  our  mutual  schemes.  I  will  see  you 
to-morrow  night.  Then  to  crush  out  the  new  hope 
from  the  heart  of  the  woman  I  have  sworn  to  gain, 
and  the  man  you  love  so  passionately." 

He  was  gone,  and  Blanche  Vansant  stood  alone, 
vaguely  chilled  at  her  dreary  surroundings.  A 
more  desolate  spot  than  that  she  finally  reached 
could  not  well  be  conceived.  A  dozen  or  more 
dismantled  structures,  employed  as  boat  pavilions 
and  storage-houses  marked  the  deserted  banks  of 
the  river.  She  came  to  a  halt  at  last,  and  strove 
to  quiet  her  excited  nerves,  as  she  saw  the  rude, 
rough  boat-house  Williard  had  alluded  to.  Through 
the  chinks  in  the  boards  a  dim  light  was  visible. 
She  pressed  her  face  to  one  of  these,  and  for  a  few 
moments  was  silently  engaged  in  viewing  the  in- 
terior of  the  hut. 

Upon  a  rude  bench  lay  a  thin,  wasted  figure  — 
that  of  a  man  prematurely  old.  His  close-cropped 
hair  was  white  as  snow,  his  thin  face  and  closed 
eyes  told  of  intense  suffering,  while  the  tremulous 
moans  that  escaped  his  lips  betokened  a  serious  ill- 
ness. Upon  a  stool  stood  a  bottle  of  some  dark 
mixture,  and  a  candle  burned  low  and  dim. 

The  woman  hesitated.  This  was  Myrtle  Blake's 
father,  this  the  possessor  of  the  vaunted  fortune. 
She  began  to  doubt  Bryce  Williard's  claims;  she 
determined  to  retreat;  then  a  bold  impulse  to  fol- 
low up  her  plot  caused  her  to  advance  to  the  door 
and  open  it. 

The  man  on  the  bench  moved  uneasily,  a  spasm 


A  FATEFUL  SECRET.  23 

of  pain  crossed  his  face,  his  eyes  half  opened,  and 
he  murmured  some  unintelligible  words. 

"  Father!  " 

She  had  entered  the  room.  With  assumed 
tenderness  of  manner  Blanche  Vansant  glided  to 
the  side  of  the  dying  man,  and  flinging  herself  upon 
her  knees,  her  hand  caressed  his  aged  head. 

A  mingled  cry  of  pain  and  joy  gurgled  in  the 
man's  throat.  His  trembling  fingers  caught  her 
hand,  his  blurred  eyesight  strove  to  read  the  face 
bent  so  closely  to  his  own. 

"  Oh,  it  cannot  be;  at  last,  at  last!  "  he  cried 
brokenly.  "  My  little  Myrtle,  my  darling  child, 
who  suffers  with  me  for  a  deadly  wrong.  He  kept 
his  word,  the  stranger,  and  sent  you  hither." 

"He  did,  he  told  me  all." 

Blanche  Vansant  paused.  Blake,  with  feverish 
delight,  had  taken  from  her  hand  the  locket  and 
chain  she  still  retained  in  her  grasp. 

"  The  old  memento,  the  old  keepsake, "he  gasped 
out,  pressing  his  lips  to  the  well-worn  relic.  "  The 
picture  of  myself  and  your  mother,  and  the  letter 
which  certifies  our  marriage  and  your  birth.  Oh, 
my  darling,  you  have  kept  this  all  these  years." 

The  excitement  seemed  suddenly  to  prostrate  him. 
He  fell  back  panting  for  breath,  while  the  woman, 
watching  him  with  basilisk  glance,  awaited  the  op- 
portunity to  speak  of  his  secret 

"  Listen,"  he  said,  finally.  "  For  ten  long  years 
I  have  been  the  inmate  of  a  close  prison,  the  victim 
of  the  most  cruel  conspiracy  a  human  being  ever 
suffered.  I  was  robbed  of  a  fortune  rightfully  mine, 
rightfully  your  own.  The  man  who  robbed  me,  the 
man  who  saw  me  suffer,  an  innocent  man,  must  be 
hunted  down  —  must  make  restitution  —  must  suffer 
as  I  have  done!  Justice!  I  shall  not  live  to  see  it, 
but  you,  Myrtle  —  these  papers,  they  tell  all,  the 
name  of  the  miscreant  who  revels  in  my  wealth. 


24  A   FATEFUL  SECRET. 

Take  them,  for  my  strength  is  failing  me  My  med- 
icine! It  will  revive  me  temporarily;  and  move  the 
light  so  I  can  see  your  dear  face  more  perfectly 
with  my  dyino-  eyes,  to  tell  you  of  the  fortune 
secreted " 

Blanche  Vansant  seized  the  coveted  documents 
that  John  Blake  had  tendered  her.  She  hesitated 
at  his  last  request.  She  dared  not  risk  the  chance 
of  his  seeing  her  face  more  closely.  Was  it  accident 
or  design?  As  she  moved  back  her  hand  swept  the 
precious  bottle  of  medicine  to  the  floor.  The  phial 
was  shattered,  the  liquid  lost. 

John  Blake  uttered  a  despairing  cry. 

She  saw  that  he  was  dying.  She  read  it  in  his 
ineffectual  attempts  to  tell  her  more.  His  fingers 
tightened  on  her  hand,  a  convulsive  tremor  shook 
his  frame.  She  tore  her  hand  with  a  shudder  from 
the  death-clasp  .with  a  half-affrighted  cry,  for  the 
white  face  had  grown  still,  the  apparent  rigidity  of 
death  held  the  attenuated  form  silent  as  that  of  a 
statue. 

"  Dead!"  she  gasped  out;  "  but  I  have  succeeded. 
The  papers  will  tell  all.  It  is  a  boast,  an  idle  story, 
or,  merciful  heavens!  they  have  not  lied." 

She  could  not  resist  the  temptation,  even  in  the 
presence  of  death,  to  glance  at  the  documents  she 
possessed.  As  her  keen  glance  scanned  the  first 
paper,  a  wild,  frightened  light  shone  in  her  quiver- 
ing eyes. 

"  The  name  of  the  man  who  holds  John  Blake's 
fortune,"  she  whispered,  hoarsely.  "  He  spoke  the 
truth.  A  fortune  is  mine,  a  power  given  me  by 
John  Blake's  secret,  that  will  compel  Percy  Grey  to 
suffer  poverty  and  disgrace  or  wed  me." 

She  tore  from  the  hut  as  if  pursued,  appalled  at 
the  mighty  power  of  the  secret  she  had  discovered. 

"  Two  out  of  the  way,"  cried  Blanche  Vansant,  in 
wild  excitement  and  triumph;  "  and  Myrtle  Blake 


THE  FALCON  AND  THE  DOVE.  2§ 

driven  from  home  and  lost.  The  Blake  secret  is 
mine  alone,  to  force  old  Ansel  Grey  to  my  will,  to 
win  the  name  and  fortune  of  the  man  I  love,  Percy 
Grey." 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE  FALCON  AND  THE  DOVE. 

POOR,  motherless  Cinderella! 

When  the  first  realization  of  her  orphaned  condi- 
tion broke  with  full  force  over  the  crushed  heart  of 
the  persecuted  child  of  destiny,  it  seemed  as  if  all 
hope  and  brightness  had  been  rent  from  her  young 
life.  She  forgot  the  cruel  plots  of  Bryce  Williard, 
her  own  destitute  position;  even  the  kindly,  earnest 
friendship  of  Percy  Grey.  Sobbing  away  her  grief 
in  the  arms  of  her  kind-hearted  neighbor,  the  young 
man  left  her  to  her  sorrow,  while  he  directed  the 
arrangements  for  her  future  comfort,  and  the  inter- 
ment of  her  dead  mother. 

Amid  the  misery  about  him,  Percy  Grey's  heart 
warmed  to  sympathy  for  the  unfortunate  tenantry. 
More  than  one  poor  soul  went  to  bed  that  night 
richer  from  the  generosity  of  the  landlord's  nephew, 
and  when  he  finally  left  the  house,  the  rooms  for- 
merly occupied  by  Mrs.  Blake  were  rehabilitated 
and  cheerful,  and  the  woman  who  had  befriended 
Myrtle  was  furnished  with  the  means  to  provide  for 
the  comfort  of  the  bereaved  girl. 

Through  that  long,  bitter  night  of  sorrow,  and 
the  succeeding  day  of  heart-rending  separation  from 
the  inanimate  clay  of  her  mother,  there  crept,  de- 
spite herself,  into  the  young  girl's  heart,  a  new, 
reliant  calm,  that  soothed  her  distracted  soul.  At 
the  darkest  hour  an  angel  of  comfort  had  visited 
her.  The  tears  that  fell  over  the  frozen  grave  were 
grateful,  as  well  as  grief-born,  for  she  had  seen  her 


2.6        THE  FALCON  AND  THE  DOVE. 

mother  rescued  from  a  pauper's  oblivion,  and  she 
turned  back  to  life  with  a  ray  of  light  illuminating 
its  black  expanse  —  the  friendship  of  a  man  with  a 
heart  and  a  soul. 

It  was  the  afternoon  of  the  day  succeeding  the 
funeral.  Myrtle  Blake  sat  thinking  over  the  crowd- 
ing events  of  the  past  few  days  with  tearful,  medi- 
tating eyes.  It  seemed  as  if  a  crisis  in  life  had 
come  and  passed,  leaving  a  golden  sorrow  that  was 
haunting,  but  also  a  calm,  reliant  hope  for  the  fu.ture. 

Her  heart  beat  faster,  her  eyes  grew  expressive, 
as  a  light  footstep  sounded  in  the  hall  without,  and 
then  a  slight  tremor  of  confusion  shook  the  dainty 
form,  so  graceful  in  its  plain  black  garments  of 
mourning.  The  door  opened  as  she  answered  the 
light  knock  with  an  invitation  to  enter.  Her  visitor 
was  Percy  Grey. 

His  face  was  serious  but  encouraging,  his  manner 
earnestly  respectful  yet  interested.  He  fixed  his 
clear,  honest  eyes  on  her  beautiful  face  steadfastly 
as  he  took  the  chair  she  proffered  him. 
-  A  thought  of  all  he  had  been  to  her  during  her 
bereavement,  the  silent  eloquence  of  his  sympathy, 
drove  Myrtle  to  an  involuntary  impulse.  Her 
bright  eyes  filled  with  tears,  her  quivering  voice  in- 
coherently sobbed  out  her  gratitude. 

"  You  must  not  speak  of  that,  Miss  Blake,"  Percy 
Grey  said,  quickly.  "  Let  us  talk  of  the  future,  for 
your  life  is  too  hopeful  and  young  to  be  blighted  by 
an  early  sorrow." 

She  told  him  of  her  position  at  Grasp  &  Throttle's, 
a  flush  of  pleasure  even  crossing  her  face  as  she  an- 
nounced that  she  could  find  immediate  employment. 

Percy  Grey  shook  'iis  head  seriously. 

"  You  must  never  go  back  there, "  he  said.  "  The 
Cinderella  of  the  past  must  emerge  to  something 
better  than  the  treadmill  slavery  circumstances 
force  so  many  poor  girls  to  adopt.  You  are  edu- 


27 

cated,  refined,  and  intelligent.  There  are  oppor- 
tunities open  for  better  compensation  and  more 
elevating  occupation  than  wearing  your  life  away  at 
that  dark  factory." 

Myrtle's  ingenuous  mind  awakened  to  quick  in- 
terest at  his  suggestion.  She  listened  with  delight 
to  his  proffer  to  interest  some  friend  in  securing  her 
a  position,  and  her  poor  face  had  become  positively 
cheerful  when  he  arose  to  leave  her. 

"  I  will  call  or  send  you  some  word  in  a  day  or 
two,"  said  Percy  Grey  as  he  bade  farewell.  "  I  am 
compelled  to  leave  the  city  shortly,  but  will  not  be 
gone  long.  You  shall  not  suffer  for  a  friend,  and 
you  shall  be  protected  from  such  scoundrels  as 
Bryce  Williard,  while  I  am  near,  Miss  Blake." 

Myrtle  thrilled  to  a  wild  tremor  of  emotion  as  he 
pressed  her  hand  earnestly,  as  his  eyes  meeting 
her  own  told  that  the  sympathy  his  heart  had  ex- 
perienced was  part  of  an  emotion  more  lasting  than 
silent  pity.  The  light  seemed  to  go  with  him,  but 
with  a  little  fluttering  sigh  she  resumed  her  solitary 
meditation,  the  lingering  memory  of  his  presence 
making  her  blush  at  her  own  thoughts. 

"So  kind,  so  noble,"  she  whispered  to  herself 
with  quivering  pulses.  "  Will  he  really  come  again, 
or  is  his  interest  in  me  only  the  pity  of  an  honest, 
sympathetic  man  for  a  poor  girl  in  distress?  " 

She  could  not  deceive  her  heart  with  grateful 
tears.  All  through  that  day  and  the  one  ensuing, 
the  hours  seemed  leaden-winged  as  they  disappoint- 
edly passed  by.  Poor,  confiding  Cinderella,  she 
little  dreamed  that  at  that  very  moment  dark  plots 
of  evil  were  forming  about  her  devoted  life,  that  the 
absence  of  Percy  Grey  was  occasioned  by  the  deft 
suggestion  of  Blanche  Vansant  to  his  uncle  to  send 
him  away  on  business. 

Myrtle  was  apprehensive  when  her  neighbors  told 
her  of  a  surreptitious  visit  of  Bryce  Williard  to  the 


28       THE  FALCON  AND  THE  DOVfi 

house  that  morning.  He  had  made  inquiries  of 
some  of  them  regarding  the  occurrences  since  his 
being  deposed  as  agent,  but  he  had  not  ventured  to 
intrude  upon  Myrtle,  and  she  believed  he  would  not 
dare  again  to  molest  her  while  she  was  protected 
by  her  manly  rescuer,  Percy  Grey. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  as  she  was  returning 
from  an  errand  in  the  neighborhood  that  a  lady 
whom  she  did  not  know  stopped  her  and  addressed 
her: 

"  You  are  Miss  Blake?  "  she  asked. 

Myrtle  nodded  assentingly,  and  looked  wonder- 
ingly  at  the  strange  woman,  who  tendered  her  a 
folded  note. 

"  A  note  for  me,"  murmured  Myrtle,  in  some 
surprise.  "  It  must  be  from  the  factory." 

A  tell-tale  flush  came  into  her  face  as  she  opened 
the  letter.  Her  first  act  was  to  look  at  the  signa- 
ture. 

"  From  Percy  Grey,"  she  murmured,  as  she 
regarded  the  clear,  business-like  handwriting. 
"  What  can  he  have  to  write  to  me?  " 

The  note  was  brief  and  ran: 

"  MiSS  BLAKE — If  you  will  call  with  the  bearer 
upon  my  friend,  Miss  Helen  Delroy,  this  afternoon 
or  evening,  she  will  be  able  to  give  you  some  pleas- 
ant and  lucrative  employment." 

The  writer  named  the  home  of  the  lady  referred 
to  —  a  residence  street  near  the  southern  avenues  of 
the  city.  Myrtle  had  never  seen  Percy  Grey's 
handwriting,  but  not  for  a  moment  did  she  doubt 
the  genuineness  of  the  note 

She  was  in  a  flutter  of  delightful  anticipation  as 
she  murmured  joyfully: 

"  I  shall  find  employment  —  the  means  of  repay- 
ing Mr  Grey  for  his  kindness,  " 

A  certain  awe  possessed  the  timid,  shrinking  soul 
of  Myrtle  Blake,  as  the  bearer  of  the  note  led  her 


THE  FALCON  AND  THE  DOVE.       29 

through  the  miserable  neighborhood,  and,  reaching 
the  house  mentioned  in  the  note,  left  her  side. 

It  was  a  stately  marble-front  edifice,  closely  shut- 
tered. She  rang  the  door-bell  with  a  trembling 
hand,  and  simultaneously  murmured  the  name  of 
Mrs.  Delroy,  as  a  colored  servant  admitted  her. 

The  chandeliers  were  lit  as  she  was  shown  into 
an  apartment  elegantly  furnished.  A  dark,  flash- 
ing beauty  passed  through  the  room,  and  went  into 
the  second  salon,  whence  the  sound  of  animated 
conversation  issued. 

She  arose  with  no  little  trepidation  as  a  stout, 
portly  woman,  jewel-bedecked  and  flashily  dressed, 
entered  the  parlor.  There  was  a  false  smile  beneath 
the  deep  rouge  and  powder,  that  somehow  or  other 
chilled  the  innocent  Myrtle. 

"  You  are  Miss  Myrtle  Blake?  "  murmured  the 
woman  in  smooth,  oily  tones.  "  I  would  know  you 
from  Mr.  Grey's  description.  Is  he  not  kind  and 
liberal,  and  willing  to  be  more  kind  and  liberal, 
my  dear,  if  you  will  come  under  my  charge?  " 

The  serpent-like  eyes  studied  Myrtle's  face  closely, 
as  the  latter  was  silent.  She  could  not  but  feel  a 
vague  terror  at  this  woman's  presence;  she  could 
not  repress  a  violent  start  as  she  heard  hilarious 
laughter  and  the  clinking  of  glasses  from  the  cur- 
tained end  of  the  large  parlor,  and  as  her  eyes 
wandered  thither,  she  saw  seated  around  a  table  a 
company  of  men  and  women,  the  former  smoking, 
the  latter  dressed  in  a  manner  that  alarmed  her 
natural  modesty. 

"  The  employment  you  have  for  me,  madam," 
she  murmured  finally.  "  Will  you  tell  me  what  it 
is?  I  am  a  fair  writer." 

"  Bless  me,  child,  you  won't  find  fault  with  the 
work.  You  are  made  for  a  butterfly  life,  and  you 
shall  not  want  for  fine  dresses  and  jewels,  and  gay 
company.  Come  to  my  room  and  we  will  see  if 


30       THE  FALCON  AND  THE  DOVE. 

we  cannot  change  that  somber  attire  for  something 
more  attractive." 

There  was  no  mistaking  this  woman's  business. 
In  the  expressive  smile,  in  the  indifferent  glance 
toward  the  gay  company  in  the  next  apartment, 
Myrtle  Blake,  inexperienced  as  she  was,  realized 
that  which  filled  her  with  terror. 

"  Madam!"  she  cried,  arising  suddenly  to  her 
feet,  "  you  surely  do  not  mean  that  Mr.  Grey  has 
directed  you  to  offer  me  a  place  in  your  household 
under  any  circumstances?  " 

"  As  his  protege  under  my  charge;  exactly,  my 
dear.  He  fancies  your  pretty  face,  and  does  not 
intend  that  your  dainty  fingers  shall  be  soiled  by 
work." 

A  white  horror  came  into  Myrtle  Blake's  features. 
That  this  was  but  a  gilded  temptation  placed  in  her 
way,  she  could  not  but  know,  and  the  awful  knowl- 
edge that  to  this  Percy  Grey's  sympathy  had  led 
her,  held  her  rooted  to  the  spot. 

"  He  sent  that  note  he  wished  me  to  come  to 
this  —  to  this  place,"  she  gasped;  "  oh,  heavens,  it 
cannot  be." 

She  started  toward  the  door  as  she  spoke.  The 
woman's  face  grew  dark;  she  intercepted  her  visi- 
tor with  a  tight  clasp  of  her  fat,  jeweled  hand. 

"  You  little  fool!"  she  hissed;  "  will  you  spoil  the 
chance  of  a  life  by  being  prudish?  Who  suggests 
wrong?  not  he,  not  I.  Is  the  place  not  fine  and 
comfortable  enough  for  you?  " 

"  Release  me,  woman;  how  dare  you  keep  me  in 
this  place?  " 

She  tore  herself  from  the  woman's  grasp  with  a 
wild  scream  of  terror,  and  dashed  toward  the  hall. 
The  woman's  eyes  grew  crafty  as  she  started  after 
her.  She  had  deftly  removed  a  diamond  circlet 
from  her  finger.  Unnoticed  by  Myrtle,  she  pressed 


THE  FALCON  AND  THE  DOVE.       31 

close  to  her  side  and  slipped  the  ring  into  the 
pocket  of  the  girl's  dress. 

Myrtle  tore  open  the  inside  door  and  gained  the 
vestibule.  At  that  moment  the  woman's  hand 
grasped  her  arm. 

"  You  had  better  come  back,"  she  hissed  in  her 
ear.  "  Here  is  comfort,  luxury,  a  wealthy  lover; 
outside,  poverty,  struggle  and  temptation  to  the 
last.  Be  warned." 

"  Let  me  go!  Oh,  God,  is  all  the  world  false 
and  bad?  " 

Myrtle  Blake  reeled  down  the  marble  steps  with 
a  heart  too  overwhelmed  for  utterance.  She  drew 
back  as  a  cry  reached  her  ears. 

"  Officer,  arrest  that  girl;  she  has  robbed  me." 

She  looked  up  quickly.  As  if  by  design,  a 
uniformed  policeman  stood  at  the  curb,  and  turned 
to  hasten  toward  and  intercept  her  as  the  woman 
cried  out  her  false  accusation. 

For  a  moment  Myrtle  Blake  reeled  where  she 
stood.  She  felt  the  officer's  hand  seize  her  arm. 
She  heard  vaguely  the  woman  demand  that  she 
should  be  searched;  that  she  had  been  robbed  by 
the  girl  when  trying  to  befriend  her;  and  then,  as 
the  policeman  drew  a  diamond  circlet  from  her 
pocket,  Myrtle  cried  out  wildly: 

"  It  is  false,  it  is  false!  this  is  all  some  cruel  plot 
to  drive  me  into  the  power  of  this  woman  and  her 
friends." 

"  You  come  along  with  me." 

The  officer  tore  her  clinging  hand  from  the  gilded 
railing  with  brutal  strength,  unheeding  her  words 
and  cries.  A  frantic  terror  possessed  his  fair  pris- 
oner, as  she  realized  the  disgrace  and  trouble  that 
had  befallen  her.  Then  she  looked  up  quickly 
and  turned  with  a  wild,  hopeful  cry,  when  a  voice 
said  peremptorily: 

"You  must  not  arrest  that  girl." 


32  THE  FALCON  AND  THE  DOVE. 

"  At  any  other  time  she  would  have  shrank  from 
the  man  who  uttered  those  words.  Amid  the  awful 
terror  of  her  helplessness  and  agony  she  clasped 
her  hands  frantically  and  cried  to  him  eagerly. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Williard,  you  know  I  would  not  steal. 
You  know  there  is  some  terrible  mistake  in  all  this ! " 

It  was  Bryce  Williard  who  had  appeared,  and 
who  exchanged  a  significant  look  with  the  woman 
on  the  steps  and  then  turned  to  the  officer. 

"  Who  are  you?  What  business  is  this  of  yours?  " 
demanded  the  policeman. 

"  I  am  acquainted  with  this  young  lady  and  I 
know  her  to  be  an  honest  working-girl.  Miss 
Blake,"  he  whispered,  coming  nearer  to  her,  "  if 
you  can  forget  the  past  wrong  I  have  done  you, 
believe  me  I  will  try  and  befriend  you  in  your 
present  trouble." 

His  false  face  but  poorly  concealed  its  scheming 
craftiness,  but  to  Mrytle  he  seemed  an  enemy  sud- 
denly transformed  into  a  friend,  regretful  for  his 
past. 

With  anxious  eyes  she  saw  him  approach  the 
woman  and  converse  with  her.  She  read  not  the 
deft  dissimulation  in  his  actions  and  occasional 
excited  words,  but  sobbed  hopefully,  as  he  came  to 
where  she  stood  and  said  to  the  officer: 

"  I  have  prevailed  on  the  lady  to  compromise. 
You  are  to  take  the  ring  to  her  and  allow  this  young 
lady  to  depart.  There  has  been  a  mistake." 

He  slipped  a  bill  into  the  policeman's  hand  as  the 
latter  was  going  up  the  steps  with  the  ring.  Quite 
a  little  throng  had  gathered  about  the  steps. 

"I  will  lead  you  from  this  annoying  throng,  Miss 
Blake,"  he  said,  with  a  well-assumed  respectful 
manner.  "Ah,  there  is  a  carriage.  It  is  the  only 
way  to  evade  contact  with  this  gaping,  curious 
crowd." 

Myrtle   shrank   back    as   her   companion    drew 


THE  FALCON  AND  THE  DOVE.       J3 

towards  a  vehicle  at  the  curb.  The  danger  of  arrest 
departed,  she  remembered  all  the  past  cruelty  of 
this  man,  yet  a  sense  of  obligation  for  what  she 
deemed  his  fortunate  interference  in  her  behalf  held 
her  silent. 

He  was  intensely  respectful  as  he  gave  an  order 
to  the  cabman  and  leaned  towards  her. 

"  Miss  Blake,"  he  said,  "  you  owe  me  nothing  but 
aversion  and  dislike,  for  I  have  acted  very  cruelly 
to  you.  I  have  repented  my  actions  and  ask  your 
forgiveness.  My  heart  is  stirred  to  the  keenest 
sympathy  for  your  trouble.  Will  you  believe  me 
to  be  a  friend?  " 

She  did  not  reply.  A  choking  sob  rent  the  poor 
tortured  lips  as  Myrtle's  mind  grew  confused  over 
all  that  had  occurred  and  confessed  to  an  utter  in- 
ability to  distinguish  friend  from  foe. 

"  You  believe  Percy  Grey  the  soul  of  honor," 
went  on  the  wily  schemer.  "  If  I  mistake  not,  the 
woman  we  just  left  is  a  friend  of  his;  you  are  not 
safe  even  at  your  own  home.  If  you  will  trust  me 
as  a  friend,  let  me  take  you  to  a  place  where  you 
shall  have  security  and  rest  until  you  can  decide 
what  to  do.  I  ask  only  this  confidence  to  atone 
for  all  the  trouble  and  misery  I  so  cruelly  imposed 
upon  you." 

The  accents  of  his  voice  fairly  trembled  with  well- 
affected  sincerity,  his  past  evil  was  obscured  amid 
the  torturing  agony  in  Myrtle's  mind  of  the  plot 
she  had  escaped  —  the  plot  which  to  all  seeming 
Percy  Grey  had  laid  to  entrap  her.  The  sinister  eyes 
watching  her  keenly  allowed  her  to  give  way  to  her 
grief,  and  when  the  carriage  stopped  at  the  lighted 
entrance  at  what  seemed  to  be  a  small  hotel,  Wil- 
liard  noted  with  satisfaction  that  she  allowed  him  to 
lead  her  unquestioningly  into  the  place. 

"  Time  to  think,  time  to  realize  all  this,"  moaned 
Myrtle,  brokenly. 

Desperate  3, 


34       THE  FALCON  AND  THE  DOVE. 

"  Your  wishes  shall  be  respected,"  murmured  the 
false  friend,  as  he  led  the  way  up  a  carpeted  stair- 
case. "  The  landlady  here  is  a  friend  of  mine.  Ah! 
Mrs.  Warden,  I  wish  a  room  for  this  young  lady." 

He  had  addressed  a  woman  standing  in  the  door- 
way of  a  parlor,  and  their  eyes  exchanged  a  signifi- 
cant look  as  he  did  so.  The  woman  came  forward, 
and,  preceding  them,  paused  before  a  door, 
unlocked  it,  and  bade  Myrtle  enter  the  apartment. 

"  You  have  been  very  kind  to  me,"  she  sobbed 
to  Williard,  who  stood  at  the  door.  "  O,  mother! 
mother!  "  broke  unrestrainedly  from  her  lips,  as  she 
flung  herself  into  a  chair,  "  would  that  I  had  died 
with  you  ere  I  came  to  know  all  this  agony  and 
disgrace." 

"  You  will  be  comfortable  and  undisturbed  here, 
my  dear,"  murmured  the  woman,  as  she  lit  a  lamp, 
and  proceeded  to  leave  the  room. 

As  she  closed  the  door  after  her,  Myrtle  started 
suddenly  with  a  sense  of  loneliness.  It  grew  to  a 
quick  awakened  terror  as  she  heard  the  voice  of 
Bryce  Williard  in  the  hall  without. 

"  Lock  the  door  and  keep  the  key." 

"  Ah,  you  wish  to  hold  her  here  a  prisoner?" 

"  Without  her  knowing  it,  until  I  can  remove  her 
somewhere  else.  Yes,  I  will  register  regularly,  so 
as  to  have  no  trouble.  Here,  watch  the  girl  closely 
until  I  return." 

There  was  a  jingling  of  silver. 

Myrtle  Blake  started  to  her  feet,  white  as  marble. 
He  is  deceiving  me,  "she  cried.     "  It  is  all  a  lie; 
all  a  plot.     Merciful    father,   where    is    the    true? 
where  is  the  false?  " 

The  man  who  had  believed  his  victim  to  be  ab- 
sorbed in  her  grief,  as  he  so  unguardedly  made  his 
bargain  with  the  landlady,  had  descended  to  the 
ground  floor.  The  place  was  a  small  hotel,  but  its 


THE  FALCON  AND  THE  DOVE.       35 

careless  character  was  betokened  by  the  repulsive 
face  of  the  landlord  behind  the  office  desk. 

He  nodded  familiarly  to  Williard  and  handed  him 
a  pen,  pushing  the  blotted,  ragged  register  before 
him. 

"  I  don't  intend  to  stay  long,"  remarked  Williard. 
"  By  heavens,  the  game  is  up." 

He  started  wildly  as  he  happened  to  glance  to- 
ward the  street.  Standing  just  outside  the  door, 
conversing  with  the  driver  of  the  vehicle  which 
had  brought  Williard  and  Myrtle  Blake  to  the  hotel, 
was  a  man  whom  the  former  recognized  with  gen- 
uine dismay. 

It  was  Percy  Grey.  The  street-lamp  showed  a 
face  so  pale  and  portentious,  a  pair  of  eyes  so 
aflame  with  anxiety  and  rage,  that  at  first  Williard 
seemed  about  to  show  his  true  craven  nature,  and 
turn  to  fly.  Then,  some  subtle  diabolism  giving 
boldness  to  his  villainous  soul,  he  turned  to  the  reg- 
ister and  scratched  upon  it:  "  Bryce  Williard  and 
lady." 

The  landlord  placed  the  number  of  the  room  on 
the  line  with  the  name  as  Percy  reached  the  desk 
and  with  a  sweep  of  his  hand  turned  Bryce  Williard 
face  to  face  with  himself. 

"You  scoundrel!  "  he  cried,  white  to  the  lips, 
"  infamous  plotter  and  villain,  I  have  traced  you 
down.  Where  is  Myrtle  Blake?  Where  is  the 
girl  you  have  decoyed  from  her  home  by  means  of 
a  forged  letter  in  my  name?  " 

Bryce  Williard  slipped  from  his  grasp  and 
whipped  a  chair  between  them.  He  feared  violence 
from  this  man,  but  a  sense  of  triumph,  a  deep 
hatred  for  his  foe,  emboldened  him  to  torture  him 
when  the  opportunity  offered. 

"  Who  are  you  that  insults  me  in  the  pursuance 
of  my  business?  "  he  demanded.  "  What  do  I 
know  of  your  forged  letters?  " 


36       THE  FALCON  AND  THE  DOVE. 

"  What  do  you  know?  "  trembled  on  Grey's  ex- 
cited lips.  "  Be  careful!  Oh!  you  fiend,  you  shall 
suffer  for  this!  " 

His  eyes  had  fallen  to  the  hotel  register,  his 
dazed  vision  rested  on  the  infamous  record  of  Bryce 
Williard's  villainy.  He  could  scarcely  control  him- 
self. Maddened  with  wild  rage,  he  endeavored  to 
seize  the  miscreant  before  him. 

"Be  careful  of  yourself,"  ground  out  Williard. 
"  I  am  no  longer  your  hireling.  I  am  among 
friends.  What  is  it  to  me  that  you  fume  and  fret 
because  I  have  won  your  lady-love  from  you 
by  fair  or  foul  means?  She  came  here  willingly; 
she  will  become  my  wife  before  another  day. " 

"  You  lie!  "  rang  from  Grey's  lips.  "  Bryce  Wil- 
liard, you  have  gone  too  far  in  luring  this  innocent 
girl  from  her  home.  If  what  you  say  is  true  —  if 
she  has  come  here  willingly,  heaven  help  me;  but  if 
your  evil  plots  have  injured  one  hair  of  her  dear 
head,  I  will  kill  you." 

He  turned  quickly;  with  abound  he  reached  the 
door-way.  He  was  up  the  stairs  ere  the  landlord 
or  Williard  could  prevent  him.  He  dashed  the 
landlady  aside  in  the  hall  above,  glancing  wildly  at 
the  different  rooms  until  he  came  to  the  one  num- 
bered on  the  hotel  register  opposite  Bryce  Wil- 
lard's  name. 

His  hand  beat  a  wild,  echoing  tattoo  on  the  door; 
his  voice  trembling  with  suspenseful  agony,  he 
called  out: 

"  Cinderella!  Cinderella!  In  heaven's  name, 
tell  me,  are  you  there?" 

There  was  no  reply.  He  turned  the  knob;  the 
door  was  locked. 

A  spasm  of  excitement  and  pain  crossed  the 
noble  face  of  Percy  Grey.  He  raised  his  powerful 
arm.  The  door  went  flying  back  with  a  crash. 

On  the  table  the  lamp  flickered  in  the  cold  night 


FATE!  37 

breeze.  The  room  was  tenantless.  He  glanced 
wildly  about,  and  then  sprang  to  the  open  window. 

Beneath,  on  the  white  fallen  snow,  only  the  traces 
of  irregular  footsteps  showed.  Pendant  from  the 
window  was  a  shawl,  reaching  nearly  to  the  ground, 
telling  how  the  inmate  of  that  apartment  had 
escaped. 

A  wild  cry,  like  a  sob  of  frantic  relief,  broke 
from  Percy  Grey. 

He  caught  up  the  shawl  he  recognized  as  belong- 
ing to  the  woman  he  loved  and  pressed  it  to  his 
lips  fervently. 

"  Thank  God!  "  he  cried;  "  she  is  innocent. " 


CHAPTER   IV. 

FATE! 
INNOCENT! 

Like  a  pure  soul  driven  to  sudden  horror  by  the 
presence  of  a  blight,  Myrtle  Blake  had  realized  her 
peril  after  hearing  the  portentious  words  of  Bryce 
Williard  outside  the  door  of  the  room  in  which  she 
was  imprisoned.  Even  amid  the  deep  emotion  of 
a  growing  manly  love  Percy  Grey  could  not  com- 
prehend how  her  very  innocence  and  inexperience 
had  driven  her  to  fall  a  prey  into  the  hands  of  her 
cruel  enemies. 

She  had  not  waited  to  think  ;  she  only  wished  to 
escape.  Even  the  wild,  sudden  thought  that  the 
man  she  loved  had  been  maligned  to  her,  that  all 
the  events  of  the  hour  were  part  of  a  cunningly- 
devised  plot  of  Bryce  Williard's,  was  forgotten  for 
the  time  being,  as  she  tried  the  door,  and  then  fled 
to  the  window. 

She  did  not  hesitate  as  she  grew  dizzy  at  gazing 
down  at  the  snow-covered  ground,  She  took  her 


38  FATE! 

shawl  from  her  shoulders,  secured  it  to  a  curtain 
fixture,  and,  seizing  it  with  trembling  hands,  de- 
scended its  length. 

A  mighty  inspiration  of  relief  swept  her  lips  as 
she  fell  to  the  ground.  Then,  with  an  apprehen- 
sive glance  around  her,  she  sped  across  the  snow 
to  the  street,  and  only  paused,  panting  and  breath- 
less, when  she  had  put  a  dozen  squares  between 
herself  and  the  possibility  of  pursuit. 

The  exercise  had  flushed  her  face  to  fever  heat. 
She  stopped  in  an  embrasure  of  a  large  building 
to  rest,  but,  a  moment  later,  arose  again,  chilled 
through,  and  shivering  at  the  bitter  cold. 

"  I  will  hasten  home,"  she  decided.  "  Oh,  there 
must  be  some  mistake.  Percy  Grey  never  wrote 
that  letter.  It  is  all  the  work  of  that  villain  Wil- 
liard." 

She  grew  tearful,  however,  as,  after  wandering 
about  aimlessly  for  some  time,  she  realized  that  she 
was  unable  to  locate  the  Grey  tenements,  even  as 
to  direction.  Twice  she  was  on  the  point  of  ask- 
ing passing  pedestrians  about  its  location,  but  the 
bold,  staring  glances  of  the  men  she  met  abashed 
her,  and  she  wearily  trod  on  through  a  network 
of  streets  and  avenues,  at  last  uttering  a  sigh  of 
hope  and  relief. 

An  officer  stood  under  a  lamp-post,  and  she 
timidly  approached  him. 

"  I  have  lost  my  way,"  she  said,  hesitatingly. 
"  Would  you  direct  me,  if  you  please?" 

The  policeman  eyed  her  keenly. 

"  What  street?  "  he  demanded  gruffly. 

She  named  the  thoroughfare  on  which  the  tene- 
ment houses  were  located. 

It  was  not  a  favored  locality,  and  evidently  in- 
creased the  suspicions  of  the  policeman  of  late 
pedestrians. 

"Go  directly  south,"  he  said  briefly,  "and  go 


FATE!  39 

quickly.  Young  girls  alone  at  this  hour  is  against 
rules,  and  you'll  get  in  trouble  if  you  don't  make  a 
bee-line  for  home." 

She  hurried  her  steps  at  his  ominous  words, 
traveling  the  direction  he  gave  her.  For  several 
squares  she  proceeded  quietly  and  unmolested. 
She  recoiled  as  a  man  suddenly  turning  a  corner 
caught  sight  of  her  and  started  toward  her. 

"  Hold  on,  my  dear,"  he  cried  out  in  a  half  maud- 
lin tone,  as  she  uttered  a  little  scream  of  alarm. 
"  You  .must  want  company  this  lonely  night.  " 

Myrtle  evaded  his  grasp,  and  in  her  excitement 
ran  down  the  side  street.  It  was  a  fine  residence 
thoroughfare,  but  deserted  of  all  pedestrians.  She 
grew  wildly  terrified  as  she  looked  back.  The  man 
was  following  her. 

Her  rapid  walk  broke  into  a  run  as  she  heard 
him  call  out  to  her.  He  was  gaining  upon  her  and 
laughing  gleefully  as  if  enjoying  the  sport  of  pur- 
suit. A  long  row  of  stone-front  edifices  termin- 
ated in  a  large  mansion  with  extensive  grounds. 
Myrtle,  almost  fainting  with  dread  and  exhaustion, 
leaned  on  the  iron  fence  surrounding  it  for  support. 

"  You're  too  coy,  my  pretty  one,"  hiccoughed 
the  unwelcome  voice  almost  at  her  elbow,  and 
Myrtle  started  with  a  scream  of  terror  to  evade 
him  again. 

"  Was  there  no  protection  from  insult  and  perse- 
cution? "  Not  a  policeman  was  in  sight  as  she 
turned  the  corner.  She  could  not  run  much  further, 
the  man  was  hastening  after  her.  Utterly  terrified 
tjie  girl  turned  towards  the  lighted  front  of  the 
marble  mansion.  Then  she  ran  up  the  steps  shriek- 
ing, slipped  on  the  topmost  step  and  fell  heavily. 

The  man  seemed  bent  on  keeping  up  his  perse- 
cution, but  as  a  carriage  was  coming  down  the 
street,  and  he  was  somewhat  afraid  of  getting  in 
trouble,  he  refrained  from  following  her.  As  the 


40  FATE! 

vehicle  drove  almost  to  the  curb,  he  turned  the  cor- 
ner and  abandoned  his  cowardly  pursuit. 

Myrtle  Blake,  in  falling,  had  struck  the  door  of 
the  mansion  with  her  foot  just  as  a  noise  sounded 
from  the  interior  of  the  corridor.  Evidently  her 
shriek  and  the  fall  had  attracted  considerable  atten- 
tion, for  the  door  was  suddenly  opened.  A  man, 
white-haired  and  bent  with  age,  peered  out  curi- 
ously. Then  he  swung  the  door  wide  open  and 
stared  in  mute  bewilderment  at  the  startling  pic- 
ture presented  to  his  vision. 

Insensible  upon  the  steps,  her  beautiful  golden 
hair  sweeping  the  pure  white  snow,  lay  Myrtle 
Blake.  The  old  man  cast  a  wondering  look  at  the 
prostrate  figure,  then  he  muttered: 

"  A  woman  fainted  in  the  snow.  Here,  John, 
Maggie,  some  of  you  come  here." 

He  had  stepped  half  within  the  doorway  and 
called  loudly  for  help.  A  man  came  hurriedly 
down  the  hall. 

"  You  called,  Mr.  Grey?  " 

Mr.  Grey!  What  fatality  had  led  that  poor,  per- 
secuted child  to  the  door  of  this  man,  who  held 
the  strands  of  all  her  stormy  destiny  —  the  uncle  of 
the  man  she  loved? 

"  Yes.  Call  some  of  the  other  servants.  A 
woman's  fainted  outside." 

For  two  minutes  confusion  and  bustle  reigned  in 
the  vestibule  and  hall.  Two  servants  aided  the  first 
comer  in  lifting  the  inanimate  girl  into  the  corridor, 
laying  her  on  a  sofa. 

Ansel  Grey  stood  looking  curiously  down  at  the 
helpless  f  >rm.  He  started  as  the  pale,  beautiful 
face  was  revealed,  and  he  became  deadly  pale  as 
the  young  girl's  eyes  opened. 

"That  face  —  those  eyes!  "he  gasped  incoher- 
ently. "  Oh,  it  is  some  fancied  resemblance.  See, 


FATE !  41 

she  is  recovering.     Ask  her  her  name.     Do  you 
hear  me?  " 

The  housekeeper  knelt  beside  the  sofa. 
"  You  are  getting  better,   dear,"  she   murmured, 
sympathetically,  to  the  bewildered  Myrtle.     "  How 
came  you  here?     What  is  your  name?  " 
"  My  name  is  Myrtle  Blake." 
The  answer   came    slowly,    dreamily,    as  if  the 
speaker  was  sinking  to  a  trance-like  apathy  to  all 
external  objects,  dazed  by  the  genial  warmth  and 
comfort  of  the  elegant  mansion. 

Such  a  cry  issued  from  Ansel  Grey's  lips,  as  he 
fell  back  at  hearing  that  name,  that  the  housekeeper 
stared  at  him  in  the  deepest  amazement  and  con- 
cern. 

"  Myrtle  Blake!  "  he  gasped  out,  clutching  at  his 
throat  for  breath.  "  Merciful  God!  it  is  fate;  it  has 
come  at  last  —  his  child.  What  brought  John 
Blake's  daughter  to  my  roof?  " 

"  Mr.  Grey,  what   has  happened?     You   are  ill, 

you " 

A  new  voice  spoke  with  feigned  solicitude. 
Blanche  Vansant,  descending  the  stairs  in  silken 
robes,  crowded  to  the  side  of  the  excited  man. 

He  swept  her  aside  angrily,  as  her  siren  eyes 
rested  with  awed  amazement  upon  the  object  of 
his  own  emotion. 

"  Out  with  her!  "  broke  in  imperative  rage-filled 
tones  from  the  old  man's  lips.  "  Do  you  hear  me, 
dolts,  to  stand  there  and  stare  at  me  as  if  you  were 
stones?  Turn  her  out,  I  say,  into  the  street,  the 
hospital,  the  poor-house.  She  is  some  pauper,  some 
impostor,  some  hardened  vagrant!" 

The  servants  stared  at  him  as  if  they  believed  him 
suddenly  bereft  of  his  senses.  One  of  them  stooped 
to  lift  the  lifeless  form,  to  carry  his  order  into  execu- 
tion. 

"Stopl" 


42  FATE! 

He  turned  as  a  quick  voice  spoke,  as  the  occu- 
pant of  the  carriage  that  had  just  driven  up  to  the 
mansion  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  open  door- 
way. 

It  was  Percy  Grey,  pale  and  excited.  He  eyed 
the  throng  questioningly. 

"  What  does  this  mean,  Uncle?" 

"A  vagrant,  some  impostor  trying  to  appeal  to 
our  sympathies." 

"  Oh,  thank  heaven,  it  is  she!  Cinderella,  Cin- 
derella, at  last  I  have  found  you." 

To  the  utter  consternation  of  the  servants,  filling 
Ansel  Grey  with  the  wildest  amazement,  Percy 
Grey  sprang  suddenly  forward.  He  caught  the 
form  of  Myrtle  in  his  arms  in  a  fond  embrace;  his 
eyes,  bent  down  upon  her,  were  filled  with  the 
ardent  love  of  a  noble  soul. 

A  half-suppressed  cry,  like  the  utterance  of  a 
baffled  tiger,  rent  Blanche  Vansant's  lips,  and  she 
clung  to  the  door  for  support. 

An  awful  light  came  into  Ansel  Grey's  eyes.  His 
face  a  void  of  white  rage,  his  lips  parted  as  if  to 
utter  some  direful  curse,  he  raved  forth  the  cruel 
words: 

"  Out  with  her,  I  say.  Who  is  this  woman,  Percy 
—  this  vagrant  of  whom  you  seem  to  know  some- 
thing?" 

Percy  Grey  looked  up  with  a  face  so  calm  that  it 
awed  the  old  man  to  silence.  His  hand  caressed 
tenderly  the  golden  head  pillowed  on  his  breast,  as 
he  said  slowly: 

"  She  is  no  vagrant,  no  impostor.  This  poor  per- 
secuted child  is  the  woman  I  love.  Order  her  from 
your  roof  this  wild  winter's  night,  Ansel  Grey,  and 
I  go  too! " 


PLOTTERS  AT  WORK.  43 

CHAPTER  V. 

PLOTTERS  AT   WORK. 

OLD  Ansel  Grey  stood  glaring  at  his  nephew, 
transfixed,  amazed,  for  some  moments  after  Percy 
had  made  his  astounding  declaration. 

"  You  love  this  girl — you  know  her — you  defy 
me,"  he  gasped  out  incoherently.  "  Take  her  out 
of  my  sight,  then,"  he  ordered  the  servants  with  a 
frantic  wave  of  his  hand.  "  As  to  you,  sir,  I  de- 
mand an  explanation  of  all  this!  " 

"  You  shall  know  all,"  replied  Percy,  calmly. 
"  When  you  learn  how  innocent  and  persecuted 
has  been  this  poor  child  of  poverty,  you  will  not 
grudge  her  the  shelter  of  your  roof." 

He  transferred  the  dazed,  half-insensible  Myrtle 
to  the  arms  of  the  housekeeper  as  tenderly  as  though 
she  had  been  his  chosen  bride.  He  murmured 
solicitous  directions  for  her  welfare,  and  then  with 
a  proud  step  turned  toward  the  library,  whither  his 
uncle  had  started  with  unsteady  gait  and  ashen 
countenance. 

The  door  closed  upon  them  both,  shutting  out 
the  curious  gaze  of  the  gossiping  servants;  shutting 
out,  too,  the  dark  beauty,  who,  with  a  sinking  heart, 
had  drawn  within  the  shadow  of  an  alcove. 

Blanche  Vansant,  her  jewekd  hands  clinched, 
her  eyes  aflame,  her  face  drawn  in  an  expression  of 
murderous  hatred,  was  convulsed  with  pent-up 
emotions  as  they  bore  Myrtle  Blake  down  the  hall. 

"  Under  this  roof,  publicy  claimed  by  Percy  Grey 
as  the  woman  he  loved,"  broke  passionately  from 
the  trembling  lips.  "  Oh,  it  is  too  much  for  me  to 
bear.  Has  Williard  played  me  false;  has  he  dared 
to  disobey  and  defy  me?  No,  no;  it  is  fate,  but 
that  fate  I  will  battle,  for  I  swear  Myrtle  Blake  shall 
not  gain  the  coveted  prize  of  love  and  fortune," 


44  PLOTTERS  AT   WORK. 

She  glanced  searchingly  about  her;  then,  stealthily 
crossing  the  hall,  she  glided  through  an  open  door- 
way and  groped  her  way  in  the  darkness  across  the 
smoking  alcove  behind  the  library.  A  pair  of  heavy 
curtains  separated  the  two  apartments, and  she  moved 
toward  them,  parting  them  slightly,  preparing  to 
listen  and  then  —  to  act. 

A  triumphant  gleam  came  into  the  dark,  express- 
ive eyes  as  Blanche  Vansant's  mind  pronounced 
those  two  little  words,  as  she  realized  that  in  her 
possession  were  certain  documents  wrested  from  the 
dying  and  deluded  John  Blake,  which  would  explode 
a  mine  under  the  feet  of  Ansel  Grey,  and  cause  him 
to  cower  and  cringe  under  the  lash  of  her  terrible 
power. 

It  was  Ansel  Grey,  who,  seated  at  the  library 
table,  regarded  his  nephew  with  a  look  that  told  of 
illy-repressed  rage  and  excitement.  The  aged  face 
was  drawn  and  white;  the  restless  hands  trembled 
fitfully.  To  this  old  man  the  one  tie  of  affection 
and  interest  in  all  the  world  was  the  brave,  reliant 
young  man  who  now  faced  him  with  silent  determin- 
ation. 

"  Who  is  that  girl?  Why  do  you  befriend  her?  " 
came  in  a  gasping  tone  from  Ansel  Grey's  lips. 

The  young  man's  eyes  swept  his  uncle's  face 
silently. 

"  I  have  told  you  why,"  he  replied  quietly.  "  Let 
me  ask  you  a  question.  Why  do  you  seek  to  drive 
her  from  your  door?  " 

Ansel  Grey  winced  at  the  steady  gaze  of  the  other, 
but  evaded  a  direct  reply. 

"  As  I  would  any  other  person  I  believed  to  be 
an  impostor  or  a  homeless  vagrant,"  he  stammered. 
"  Percy  !  Percy!  "  he  continued,  with  sudden 
emotion,  "  can  you  not  see  that  I  am  suffering 
intensely?  " 


PLOTTERS   AT  WORK.  45 

Percy  Grey  advanced  to  where  his  uncle  sat  and 
placed  a  tender  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Uncle, "he  said  with  intense  feeling,  "  there  need 
be  no  secrets  between  us.  I  have  told  you  the  entire 
truth.  I  love  this  girl.  All  this  night,  having 
returned  from  my  journey,  I  have  been  tracing  her 
down,  to  rescue  her  from  the  hands  of  a  villain, 
your  former  agent,  Bryce  Williard.  She  is  pure 
and  innocent  as  a  flower,  a  poor  orphaned  child, 
whose  love  is  to  be  prized  above  all  the  gaudy 
pretensions  of  society  and  wealth  —  the  only  woman 
I  ever  met  whose  heart  responded  to  mine.  I  have 
spoken,  and  I  say  it  again,  turn  this  innocent  home- 
less girl  from  your  door  and  I  go,  too. " 

"  He  does  not  know;  he  does  not  suspect,"  whis- 
pered Ansel  Grey.  "  He  is  determined  and  willful. 
But  this  could  never  be  —  this  girl  must  be  driven 
hence  at  all  hazards." 

He  controlled  all  expressions  of  outward  emotion 
with  a  powerful  effort.  He  sank  back  in  his  chair 
and  shaded  his  hands. 

"  The  old  story,"  he  sighed,  "  of  unequal  love; 
of  an  old  man's  bitter  disappointment  in  one  he 
counted  on  so  much.  No,  no,  Percy;  nothing  more 
now.  In  the  morning  we  will  discuss  this  wild 
fancy  of  yours,  that  can  never  be  anything  but  a 
fancy." 

The  words  were  on  Percy's  lips  to  gainsay  him, 
but  he  restrained  himself  as  he  observed  how  his 
uncle  suffered  from  the  excitement  of  the  hour. 
He  bade  him  a  respectful  good-night,  and  the  next 
moment  the  door  opened  and  closed  after  him. 

If  he  could  have  seen  his  uncle  a  moment  later, 
he  would  been  wildly  amazed  —  he  would  have 
realized  that  his  suspicions  as  to  something  deeper 
in  his  uncle's  frantic  desire  to  drive  this  poor  child 
from  his  roof  were  no  vague  trifles. 


46  PLOTTERS  AT  WORK. 

An  invalid's  sufferings  had  been  his  for  long, 
weary  months,  yet  he  seemed  to  forget  all  his 
weakness  as  he  sprang  excitedly  to  his  feet. 
Pacing  the  library  floor  like  a  madman,  his  eyes 
burned  with  a  lurid,  haunted  light;  his  lips  framed 
broken  ejaculations  of  agitated  emotion  as  he  gave 
way  to  his  feelings. 

"After  all  these  years, "his  bloodless  lips  quavered. 
"  Oh,  I  had  thought  John  Blake  and  his  fatal  secret 
buried  from  human  knowledge  forever.  It  shall 
not  be.  I  have  guarded  my  treasures  too  long  to 
lose  them.  I  shrink  from  the  shadow  of  disgrace. 
Myrtle  Blake  —  his  daughter!  Is  it  some  hidden 
plot,  or  a  terrible  retribution  of  fate?" 

He  became  more  quiet  as  into  his  eyes  crept  the 
old  sordid  light  —  the  crafty  suspicious  expression 
so  natural  to  him. 

"  Percy  loves  her;  he  would  wed  that  girl.  Even 
if  she  never  suspected  the  truth,  the  daily  reproach 
of  her  face  would  kill  me.  No,  no.  Come,  Ansel 
Grey,  you  have  carried  your  scheme  so  far,  you 
must  not  weaken  now.  This  girl  has  crossed  my 
path — she  must  be  driven  hence.  Those  two  must 
be  separated.  Percy  Grey  shall  not  carry  out  his 
wild  boyish  fancy,  even  if  crime  prevents  its  con- 
summation. My  secret,  the  secret  of  John  Blake 
—  that  dreadful  past  —  is  it  still  a  secret,  or  has 
destiny  unearthed  its  influence  after  all  these  years? 
Woman,  what  does  this  mean?  " 

He  had  started  to  his  feet  wildly.  The  curtains 
parting  suddenly,  Blanche  Vansant  stepped  into 
view. 

There  was  a  change  in  the  beautiful  siren's  face 
he  could  not  but  discern.  A  glance  told  his  quick 
mind  that  this  woman's  intrusion  meant  something 
unusual;  behind  the  set  lips  and  stern  eyes  was  a 
motive  that  startled  him. 


PLOTTERS  AT  WORK.  47 

But  he  frowned  darkly,  directing  a  cold,  repel- 
lant  glance  upon  her,  as  he  said,  angrily: 

"  What  does  this  intrusion  mean?  " 

The  woman  never  took  her  eyes  from  his  face. 
She  glided  to  a  chair,  drew  it  to  the  desk,  leaned 
her  jeweled  hand  upon  it,  and  said,  in  low,  ominous 
tones: 

"  It  means  that  your  intention  of  disposing  with 
my  services  as  private  secretary  must  he  rescinded. 
It  means  that  I  have  come  to  echo  your  sentiments 
—  Percy  Grey  must  never  wed  Myrtle  Blake.  She 
must  indeed  be  driven  from  your  roof,  and  at 
once." 

In  the  conscious  possession  of  a  power  that  would 
make  this  old  man  tremble,  Blanche  Vansant  never 
quailed  at  the  rage-filled,  astonished  look  he 
bestowed  upon  her. 

"  Are  you  mad?  "  he  cried,  wildly.  "  Woman, 
you  forget  your  position  in  this  house,  that  you  dare 
to  presume  on  what  you  have  seen  and  overheard, 
to  intrude  your  unwelcome  presence  as  a  confidant 
and  equal." 

A  light,  scornful  laugh  issued  from  the  woman's 
lips. 

"Ansel  Grey,"  she  said,  slowly,  impressively, 
"  we  will  not  deal  in  mystery.  The  hour  has  come 
when  you  will  need  a  confidant,  when  disgrace  and 
poverty  stare  you  in  the  face,  unless  that  confidant 
can  help  you  hide  the  past,  which  tortures  your 
mind  even  now." 

Her  words  had  produced  the  desired  effect. 
Ansel  Grey's  face  fell.  A  wild  alarm  came  into 
the  stricken  eyes.  He  groaned  in  vague  apprehen- 
sion and  bewilderment,  but  he  did  not  reply. 

"  You  will  learn  to  bless  the  day  I  crossed  your 
path,"  went  on  Blanche  Vansant,  in  low,  confiding 
tones.  "  Look,  Ansel  Grey,  your  eyes  are  not  so 
dim,  your  memory  so  far  gone,  that  you  will  not 


48  PLOTTERS  AT   WORK. 

recognize  the  handwriting  on  this  precious  docu- 
ment." 

She  had  suddenly  drawn  from  her  pocket  a  scroll 
of  paper.  Her  hand  deftly  spread  it  before  him, 
only  for  a  moment.  Then,  as  if  fearing  that  he 
might  violently  wrench  it  from  her  possession,  she 
withdrew  it,  and  secreted  it  again. 

The  old  man's  eyes  grew  fixed  and  glassy  as  they 
stared  at  the  bold,  peculiar  handwriting  she  had  ex- 
hibited. His  face  grew  ashen,  his  trembling  lips 
parted  to  gasp  out: 

"  Merciful  Heaven!  John  Blake's  handwriting. 
Woman,  woman,  torture  me  no  longer.  What 
do  you  know;  what  is  the  price  of  your  silence?  " 

A  triumphant  flash  came  into  the  dark  face. 

"I  know  all,"  replied  Blanche  Vansant,  "and 
might  rob  you  of  every  dollar  of  your  ill-gotten 
wealth,  and  send  you  to  prison.  The  price  of  my 
silence?  Your  friendship,  your  aid  in  carrying  out 
the  dearest  wish  of  my  heart  —  the  separation  of 
Percy  Grey  and  Myrtle  Blake,  the  removal  of  the 
latter  from  our  path." 

He  had  expected  direful  menace,  ruin  complete. 
His  eyes  grew  hopeful,  his  face  resumed  its  wonted 
craftiness,  he  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  Then  you  alone "  he  began. 

"  Know  your  secret.  John  Blake  is  dead.  In 
all  the  wide  world,  Myrtle  Blake,  all  unconscious  of 
the  wrong  you  did  her  father,  is  friendless,  save  for 
the  interest  of  the  man  you  call  nephew,  Ansel 
Grey.  I  love  that  nephew.  For  your  fortune  I 
care  not;  but  he  shall  make  me  his  wife.  Choose, 
in  this  hour  of  peril.  Award  me  your  promise  to 
meet  my  wishes  regarding  him,  and  the  secret,  dead 
for  ten  years,  shall  lie  undisturbed  amid  its  ob- 
livion." 

She  was  reckless  in  her  open  avowal  of  her  love 
for  his  nephew,  as  she  realized  the  power  she  held 


PLOTTERS  AT  WORK.  49 

over  him.  As  he  glanced  at  her  passionate  face,  as 
he  remarked  her  queenly  grace  and  beauty,  his  eyes 
told  that,  whatever  the  social  distinction  he  craved 
for  his  nephew  and  heir,  he  believed  it  would  be 
safely  guarded  by  this  selfish,  but  ambitious, 
woman. 

His  head  bent  low  in  earnest  attention,  as  slowly, 
concisely,  in  low,  impressive  tones,  she  told  him  as 
much  as  she  desired  to  impart  of  her  knowledge  of 
John  Blake's  secret. 

"  In  my  hands,  your  secret  is  safe,  as  long  as  you 
work  with  me,  "she  said,  finally;  "  but  Myrtle  Blake, 
if  living,  is  a  menace  to  your  millions.  She  must 
be  driven  hence. " 

She  had  arisen  to  her  feet,  her  lips  set,  her  eyes 
gleaming  dangerously,  as  if  she  had  pronounced  the 
doom  of  the  victim  of  their  mutual  hatred.  The 
old  man  read  all  the  cruelty  and  determination  of  a 
fiend  in  her  dark  face.  His  voice  was  portentious 
as  he  demanded: 

"  But  how?  Do  you  realize  the  willful  mind  of 
my  nephew?  He  would  sacrifice  all  for  the  sake 
of  this  girl.  I  dare  not  cross  him  now." 

"  Then  leave  it  all  to  me.  Ansel  Grey,  the  com- 
pact is  made.  Beware,  when  I  have  fulfilled  my 
part  of  the  bargain,  that  you  do  not  withhold  from 
me  the  execution  of  yours." 

"  Do  not  fear,"  replied  Grey,  eagerly.  "  Separate 
these  two.  Drive  Myrtle  Blake  into  an  oblivion 
where  she  can  never  learn  my  treasured  secret. 
Then  I  will  do  as  you  wish.  I  swear  it!  " 

Blanche  Vansant  turned  from  the  apartment 
with  a  confident  triumphant  face.  She  proceeded 
straight  to  her  own  apartment,  and,  locking  the 
door,  sat  down  at  the  window  and  was  plunged  in 
deep,  somber  reverie  for  over  an  hour. 

She  arose  finally.  Taking  from  her  dress  the 
two  documents  given  her  by  the  dying  John  Blake, 

Desperate  4. 


5O  PLOTTERS  AT  WORK. 

she  selected  the  smaller  of  the  two.  Her  dark 
eyes  flashed  ominously  as  she  perused  its  contents. 
Then,  secreting  it  in  her  hand,  she  stepped  into 
the  hall  outside  and  listened. 

The  house  was  silent,  the  lights  turned  low. 
She  descended  the  stairs,  noiselessly  traversed  the 
lower  corridor,  and  paused  at  last  before  an  open 
door. 

It  was  the  housekeeper's  sleeping  apartment. 
The  heavy  regular  breathing  that  broke  upon  the 
listener's  hearing  told  that  it's  occupant  was  asleep. 
She  glided  past  the  door  and  peered  into  an  ad- 
joining apartment. 

A  lamp  half  turned  down  burned  on  a  little 
stand.  It  showed  a  snowy  cot,  upon  the  pillow  of 
which  in  infant-like  slumber  rested  the  golden  head 
of  Myrtle  Blake.  The  dark  beauty  stole  silently 
into  the  room,  and  paused  to  glance  down  at  her 
sleeping  rival. 

Even  amid  her  dreams  a  smile  of  peace  rested  on 
the  beautiful  face  of  Myrtle  Blake.  Blanche  Van- 
sant's  "eyes  devoured  her  with  hate-filled  glance, 
the  jeweled  fingers  worked  nervously,  as  if  with 
the  thought  of  some  murderous  design.  Then, 
recalled  to  herself,  she  leaned  over  and  placed  on 
the  couch  two  objects.  They  were  the  locket  and 
chain  Bryce  Williard  had  given  her,  and  one  of  the 
documents  she  had  received  from  John  Blake  at 
the  old  hut  by  the  river.  She  bestowed  a  last, 
jealous  look  at  the  sleeping  Cinderella,  a  look  turn- 
ing to  intense  triumph,  as  she  stepped  from  the 
apartment,  her  false,  satisfied  lips  murmuring  in 
low,  hissing  tones  — 

"  With  the  morning  she  will  be  gone ;  with  the 
morning  she  will  read  that  which  will  cause  her  to 
fly  from  Percy  Grey  and  the  roof  that  now  shelters 
her,  as  though  he  were  her  deadliest  enemy!  " 


DECOYED.  51 


CHAPTER  VI. 

DECOYED. 

A  SIGH  like  the  fluttering  cadence  of  a  nestling 
bird  broke  the  silence  of  the  apartment  in  which 
Myrtle  Blake  slumbered,  as  the  dark  plotter, 
Blanche  Vansant,  left  it. 

With  a  dazed,  wondering  face,   and  eyes  per- 
plexedly studying  the  dimly-illuminated  surround- 
ings, Cinderella  awoke  at  last. 
"Where  am  I?" 

She  checked  the  query  to  an  inaudible  murmur, 
as  the  light  dawned  upon  her  mind,  and  she  real- 
ized fully  what  had  transpired.  Again  that  shud- 
dering scene  of  the  hotel,  her  mad  flight  after- ' 
wards,  drove  the  color  from  her  fair  cheek ;  but  her 
breath  came  rapturously  and  fast,  as  she  recalled 
the  episode  of  the  mansion-corridor,  the  appear- 
ance of  the  man  she  loved,  and  the  kindly  services 
of  the  aged  housekeeper. 

Such  an  emotion  of  security  lulled  her  to  a 
peaceful  indifference  to  all  save  rest,  that,  thrilled 
with  a  belief  that  from  first  to  last  Percy  Grey  had 
been  a  true,  honest  friend,  Myrtle  Blake  closed  her 
eyes  with  a  half  happy  smile  of  content. 
"What  is  this?" 

Her  hand,  carelessly  sweeping  the  coverlet,  had 
come  in  contact  with  a  hard  metallic  object.  It 
clasped,  too,  a  paper.  She  sat  bolt  upright  in  bed 
and  stared  in  bewildered  amazement  at  them. 

"  My  necklace, "she  breathed,  wonderingly,  "  the 
precious  memento  of  my  father's  love,  lost  that 
dark  day  of  my  darling  mother's  death.  How 
came  it  here?  What  does  it  all  mean?  " 

She  covered  the  little  trinket  with  sorrowful 
tears  and  kisses,  opened  the  locket  and  gazed  ten- 
derly on  the  pictures  it  contained,  at  the  little 


$2  DECOYED. 

scrap  01  paper  oeneath  the  portrait  of  the  father 
she  dimly  remembered. 

As  yet  her  mind,  overcome  by  all  the  startling 
episodes  of  the  past  week,  was  unable  to  suggest  a 
solution  of  the  mystery,  or  even  grapple  with  it. 
A  new  surprise  awaited  her  as  she  opened  the  folded 
paper  she  had  found,  that  absorbed  every  sense  or 
emotion  save  utter  astonishment. 

"  My  father's  handwriting,"  she  gasped  out, 
"  the  same  as  the  locket  contains.  Oh,  I  cannot 
mistake.  That  peculiar  slanting  writing  is  his,  and 
it  is  addressed  to  me,  left  for  me  here.  What  does 
this  mystery  mean?" 

She  dropped  the  paper  from  her  nerveless  hands, 
and  sank  back  among  the  pillows,  overwhelmed  by 
the  suggestion  of  some  new  plot  she  could  not  com- 
prehend. Her  face  was  startled,  frightened,  as  she 
summoned  courage  to  again  glance  at  the  docu- 
ment left  by  Blanche  Vansant's  mlse  hands. 

From  ivonder  to  terror  her  innocent  eyes  grew, 
turning  from  the  pallor  of  alarm  to  the  ashen  hue 
of  horror.  Her  quivering  cheeks  told  of  the  most 
distracting  emotion. 

She  believed  her  senses  were  wandering,  and  all 
this  the  last  stage  of  some  lingering  life-like  dream. 
Before  poor  Cinderella  could  analyze  the  truth  or 
falsity  of  friend  or  foe;  before  she  could  fully  un- 
derstand all  that  had  occurred  since  she  had  last 
left  her  humble  home,  new  revelations  blinded  her 
to  the  past,  and  relentlessly  drove  her  innocent 
heart  to  increased  torture  and  mystifying  suspense. 

"  My  child,  my  daughter,  my  little  Myrtle,  whom 
I  have  not  seen  for  years,"  the  letter  ran,  "  if  I  die, 
this  last  behest  of  a  wronged,  persecuted  man  must 
reach  you.  For  long,  weary  years  I  have  been 
shut  out  from  the  sight  of  man,  cruelly  imprisoned 
in  a  living  hell,  at  the  instigation  of  a  fiend  I  trusted 
and  enriched;  the  man  who  robbed  me  of  my  fort- 


DECOYED.  53 

une,  who  separated  me  from  my  family,  who  now 
revels  in  my  wealth  so  hardly  earned.  Other  pa- 
pers I  shall  send  or  bring  to  you  will  tell  of  the  long 
debt  of  hate  and  justice  we  owe  this  human  ghoul 
—  Ansel  Grey." 

"  Merciful  heavens!  that  is  the  name  of  the  man 
beneath  whose  roof  I  have  found  shelter  —  the 
uncle  of  Percy  Grey,"  gasped  Myrtle,  wildly. 

The  letters  seemed  blurred  and  dancing  as  she 
pursued  the  reading  of  the  letter.  It  continued: 

"  This  man  may  have  some  strong  entrenchment 
behind  a  wall  of  influence  and  wealth,  so  that  I  can 
never  drag  him  to  the  punishment  he  deserves.  If 
this  be  true;  if  I  do  not  live  to  bring  him  to  justice, 
evade  him,  fly  from  him;  put  oceans  between  your- 
self and  the  miscreant,  whose  touch  is  blight,  whose 
heart  is  poisonous  as  that  of  the  slimy  serpent;  who 
would  seek  you  out  and  destroy  you,  if  he  but 
knew  you  would  learn  the  secret  that  would  bring 
him  to  disgrace  and  penury.  Living  or  dying,  I 
adjure  you,  by  all  your  love  for  me,  to  swear  that 
to  this  man,  and  every  friend  and  relative  of  his, 
you  will  have  but  hate  and  vengeance  and  retribu- 
tion in  store;  that  the  memory  of  all  I  have  suf- 
fered will  make  you  repay  to  them,  if  the  opportu- 
nity ever  comes,  all  the  bitterness  and  suffering  you 
can  inflict.  Swear  it,  pledge  it;  follow  out  the  last 
wish  of  a  man  hopelessly  despairing  and  wrecked 
in  health,  who  has  dragged  himself,  after  ten  years' 
suffering  in  a  living  tomb,  to  the  distant  city  where 
Ansel  Grey  revels  in  the  wealth  he  has  stolen  from 
your  father,  John  Blake. " 

Blanche  Vansant  had  not  promised  vainly  when 
her  treacherous  eyes  had  flashed  with  triumph,  and 
she  had  told  Ansel  Grey  that  she  would  drive 
Myrtle  Blake  from  his  home.  A  cry  like  the  ut- 
terance of  a  wounded  dove  broke  from  Myrtle's 
bloodless  lips.  A  haunting,  agonized  look  came 


54  DECOYED. 

into  her  distracted  face.  With  feverish  impulse 
she  sprang  from  the  couch  and  donned  her  gar- 
ments, and  then,  reeling  where  she  stood,  she  sank 
to  a  chair,  anxious  and  bewildered. 

Over  and  over  again  her  mind  went  groping 
through  the  direful  maze  of  doubt,  uncertainty  and 
terror.  From  first  to  last  she  recalled  the  experi- 
ence of  the  past  week.  Confused  shadows  again 
envelop  the  actions  of  Percy  Grey. 

"  True  or  false,  loving  or  plotful,"  she  wailed, 
"  it  must  all  end.  Fate  pursues  me  more  relent- 
lessly than  Bryce  Williard.  This  man,  whom  I  have 
learned  to  love,  must  never  see  my  face  again. 
Father,  father,  what  mean  these  bitter  words? 
Why  have  you  burdened  your  poor  child  with  but 
half  a  knowledge  of  a  dark  and  terrible  secret?  " 

Her  brain  reeled  as  she  strove  to  comprehend  it 
all;  her  heart  seemed  breaking  as  she  turned  from 
the  haven  of  rest  she  had  found.  Stern,  unrelent- 
ing, a  phantom  destiny  seemed  to  urge  her  to  fly, 
as  from  a  pestilence,  in  obedience  to  a  dying  father's 
mandate. 

She  was  flying  from  love  and  comfort,  perhaps 
happiness.  A  blight  seemed  fallen  over  all  the 
earth  as  she  trod  noiselessly  the  lower  corridor, 
gained  a  door,  unlocked  it,  and  stepped  out  into  the 
dark  and  cheerless  night. 

In  after  moments  the  poor  child  of  a  stormy  des- 
tiny could  not  remember  how  she  spent  those  sor- 
rowful hours  until  the  daylight.  On  and  on 
through  the  snow,  gathering  her  frail  garments 
about  her,  the  helpless  Cinderella  pursued  her  way 
blindly. 

Waiting  for  daylight;  shrinking  from  the  black- 
ness of  the  night  and  all  its  terrors!  What  a  pic- 
ture for  comparison,  and  a  picture  in  which  more 
than  one  honest  child  of  labor  has  shared  with  bit- 
ter experience. 


DECOYED.  55 

Once  she  determined  to  return  to  her  home.  The 
haunted,  crowding  memories  of  her  father's  letter 
caused  her  to  hesitate.  She  dared  not  go  there; 
she  dared  not  seek  a  spot  where  both  Percy  Grey 
and  Bryce  Williard  might  trace  her.  No,  no,  she 
must  lose  herself  in  the  great  city,  or  out  of  it;  must 
find  forgetfulness  of  all  the  past  and  present,  and 
live  out  the  dreary  existence,  the  dark  influence  of 
the  nigh'  portrayed  to  her. 

In  the  ashen  gray  of  the  early  dawn  she 'reached 
a  familiar  place.  Weak  and  weary,  she  sank  with 
a  sigh  of  infinite  relief  away  back  in  the  dark  shadow 
of  the  doorway  of  the  great  factory  of  Grasp  & 
Throttle.  She  forgot  all  save  weariness,  until  a 
rough,  homely  face  looked  curiously  down  upon 
her  and  spoke  her  name. 

c'  Bless  me,  if  it  ain't  Cinderella.  You  come 
early,  Miss." 

It  was  the  engineer  of  the  establishment  who  ad- 
dressed her,  come  to  start  up  the  engine  fires  and 
get  the  tread-mill  ready  for  another  day  of  labor. 

"  I  come  early  because  I  have  no  place  else  to 
go,"  choked  out  Myrtle,  sobbingly. 

"  You  don't  mean  it. " 

The  great  pitying  eyes  of  the  engineer  opened 
wide  with  manly  sympathy,  as  he  read  the  truth  in 
her  despairing  ;ace.  Then  he  gently  took  her  arm, 
unlocked  the  door,  led  her  to  the  engine-room,  and 
drew  a  bench  to  the  warmest  corner  of  the  place, 
cushioning  it  with  his  great  coat. 

"  You  sit  there,"  he  said  heartily,  "  and  rest  and 
warm  yourself,  and  when  the  fire  gets  started  we'll 
have  some  coffee  and  lunch,  and  you  can  see  how 
good  a  cook  my  wife  is. " 

The  tears  filled  Cinderella's  eyes  as  the  man,  with 
a  homely  deference  to  her  humiliating  poverty,  pro- 
vided for  her  comfort.  He  forced  her  to  partake 
of  the  lunch  he  had  brought  in  his  dinner-pail.  He 


56  DECOYED. 

purposely  avoided  her  embarrassed  explanation, 
busying  himself  at  the  machinery.  The  pleasant 
warmth,  the  wholesome  food,  seemed  to  infuse  new 
life  into  the  despairing  girl.  Life  seemed  less  mis- 
erable as  she  sobbed  down  her  griefs,  and  then  with 
infinite  weariness  slumbered  profoundly. 

The  work-whistle,  summoning  the  busy  estab- 
lishment to  life,  aroused  her,  Her  heart  was  too 
full  for  utterance  as  she  grasped  the  hand  of  the 
kind-hearted  engineer,  and  stole  up  the  stairs.  The 
foreman,  giving  directions  for  the  day's  work,  stared 
coldly  at  her  as  she  made  application  for  her  old 
position.  Her  heart  sank,  her  head  grew  dizzy,  as 
he  announced  in  a  gruff,  business  tone: 

"  They  have  filled  the  place  and  there  is  no  other 
vacancy. " 

It  was  a  pittance  at  the  best  and  long  hours  of 
drudgery,  but  it  meant  food  and  shelter.  Cinder- 
ella's eyes  were  blinded  with  tears  of  disappoint- 
ment as  she  left  the  place,  and  not  a  ray  of  hope 
came  within  the  succeeding  hours  of  weary  quest 
for  employment.  Every  factory  was  full,  every 
position  seemed  taken.  She  was  footsore  and  mis- 
erable as  she  threaded  the  desolate  streets,  ex- 
hausted and  utterly  discouraged.  She  had  ceased 
to  notice  the  streets  or  passers-by,  and  did  not  even 
start  as  a  hand  touched  her  arm,  as  a  voice  spoke 
her  name. 

A  faint  smile  of  recognition  crossed  her  pallid 
face  as  she  looked  up.  The  person  who  had  ad- 
dressed her  was  a  girl  she  had  seen  once  or  twice 
at  Grasp  &  Throttle's.  They  had  been  nothing 
more  than  speaking  acquaintances,  yet  amid  her 
friendlessness  Cinderella  welcomed  any  familiar 
face. 

Her  innocent  heart  read  no  hidden  motive  in  the 
smoothly-spoken  story  of  her  companion,  to  the 
effect  that  she  was  also  seeking  employment.  She 


DECODED.  57 

had  found  a  place  where  they  wanted  several  opera- 
tors on  bindery  work.  It  was  too  late  to  apply 
that  night.  She  affected  a  deep  sympathy  as  she 
listened  to  as  much  of  her  sorrowful  experience  as 
Cinderella  cared  to  impart.  Then  she  invited  her 
to  share  her  room  with  her  until  she  could  do 
better. 

"I  have  a  room  by  myself,"  she  said,  "  and 
enough  money  to  buy  food  until  we  are  rich  enough 
to  live  better.  Come,  Cinderella." 

And  half  an  hour  later,  despite  the  gloomy,  di- 
lapidated appearance  of  her  quarters,  Cinderella 
felt  grateful  and  comfortable  in  the  apartment  to 
which  her  companion  led  her. 

"  I  am  going  out  for  a  little  while,"  said  the  girl 
after  she  had  lit  a  lamp.  "  You  won't  be  lonely?" 

Myrtle  Blake  nodded  and  smiled  negatively.  The 
thought  of  rest  was  all  absorbing  now,  and  she 
closed  her  eyes  wearily  as  the  door  closed  upon  her 
new  friend,  and  she  drifted  back  over  the  dark  ex- 
perience of  the  week  vaguely,  haunting  "y. 

Her  companion,  once  clear  of  the  building,  made 
her  way  with  rapid  steps  to  a  street  some  distance 
away.  She  paused  before  a  large  drinking  saloon, 
proceeded  to  the  private  entrance,  and  ascended  to 
a  room  on  the  floor  above.  As  she  caught  sight 
of  a  man  seated  at  a  table,  conversing  with  a  com- 
panion, she  beckoned  to  him. 

The  man  was  Bryce  Williard,  his  companion  the 
infamous  Bartels.  Williard's  eyes  were  eager  as  he 
answered  the  girl's  signal. 

"Well,"  he  demanded   quickly,  "what  news?" 

In  reply  she  laughed  cunningly,  and  silently  ex- 
tended her  open  hand. 

Williard  stared  at  her  curiously. 

"  What  does  that  mean?  "  he  demanded. 

"  The  money  you  promised." 

Williard  uttered  a  pleased  ejaculation. 


58  DECOYED. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you've  found  the  girl?  " 

"  I  do,  and  caged  her,  too.  You  know  my  old 
room.  There's  the  key  to  it.  Cinderella  is  there; 
now  pay  the  money,  and  remember  I'm  not  to  be 
mixed  up  in  the  affair." 

Williard  drew  a  roll  of  bills  from  his  pocket,  gave 
several  to  the  girl,  dismissed  her  with  a  commenda- 
tory expression,  and  returned  to  Bartels,  engaging 
him  in  deep,  earnest  conversation. 

Poor  Cinderella,  the  object  of  all  these  plots, 
unsuspecting  of  what  was  transpiring  to  still  fur- 
ther persecute  her,  was  restlessly  pacing  the  apart- 
ment where  the  girl  had  left  her.  Rest  and  thought 
brought  such  harrowing  memories  of  the  past,  that 
they  drove  her  frantic.  She  had  gone  to  an  old- 
fashioned  window  leading  out  on  a  rude  balcony, 
and  had  gazed  wearily  at  the  snow-covered  court 
below.  She  had  sought  to  read,  to  sleep,  to  drive 
away  the  torturing  thoughts,  and  started  suddenly 
at  the  sound  of  footsteps  in  the  corridor  without. 

She  started  wiMly  as  the  door  opened.  At  first 
she  was  amazed,  then  startled  to  the  verge  of  ter- 
ror. A  man  wearing  an  enveloping  cloak  and 
heavy  slouch  hat,  had  quietly  opened  the  door  and 
closed  it.  As  he  lifted  his  hat,  the  girl  recognized 
him  with  a  cry  of  mortal  fear. 

"  Bryce  Williard!  "  fell  from  her  trembling  lips. 

He  warned  her  to  silence.  He  did  not  advance 
toward  her,  but  in  low,  ominous  tones  said: 

"  Wait,  before  you  shrink  from  me,  or  are  fool 
enough  to  give  an  alarm.  You  fly  vainly  from  your 
fate,  my  pretty  Cinderella.  You  were  brought  here 
under  my  directions.  I  want  you  to  listen  to  what 
I  have  to  say  quietly,  and  you  will  do  so  if  you 
value  your  own  safety." 

She  drew  back  still  farther  at  the  vague  threat  in 
Bryce  Williard's  tone.  She  grew  frantic  to  escape 
from  the  man's  presence.  The  door  was  blocked 


DECOYED.  59 

by  his  form.     Then  her  trembling  hand  fell  on  the 
window-frame,  as  she  cried  wildly: 

"  Inhuman  wretch,  will  you  hound  me  to  the 
last?  " 

"  Aye,  until  we  understand  each  other.  You 
struggle  vainly,  girl.  In  this  house  my  will  is  law. 
You  cannot  escape.  Choose  now  and  at  once.  I 
have  provided  for  every  exigency.  I  offer  honor- 
ably to  make  you  my  wife  this  night.  Refuse, 
and  you  shall  be  mine  forcibly.  I  have  sworn  it." 

He  was  not  prepared  for  the  quick,  determined 
flash  that  came  into  the  wan  face.  Quick  as  light, 
Cinderella  tore  open  the  window  and  sprang  to  the 
snow-covered  balcony  without.  It  trembled  be- 
neath her  weight. 

With  terrified  eyes  and  bated  breath,  in  thrilling, 
reigning  tones  she  spoke: 

"  Yours  willingly!  "  she  cried.  "  I  would  rather 
die  than  wed  the  man  who  murdered  my  darling 
mother,  who  seeks  to  drive  me  to  despair  and 
death.  Bryce  Williard,  leave  this  room,  allow  me 
to  go  hence  at  once,  or  you  will  repent  it. " 

He  made  a  sudden  move  toward  the  window. 
He  checked  his  progress  and  paled  suddenly,  as  he 
saw  the  girl  made  a  backward  move. 

"  Back!  "  she  cried;  "  another  step,  and  I  will 
fling  myself  to  the  pavement  below,  and  my  death 
will  be  upon  your  guilty  soul!  " 


60  WEDDED   AND   LOST. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

WEDDED  AND   LOST. 

"THE  girl  is  gone!" 

Percy  Grey,  hastening  down  from  his  apartment 
to  inquire  after  the  welfare  of  his  charge,  the  morn- 
ing after  Myrtle  Grey's  flight,  recoiled  as  if  dealt  a 
sudden  blow. 

In  response  to  his  query  regarding  the  young 
girl  he  had  thought  of  all  the  wakeful  night  through 
with  solicitous  tenderness,  the  housekeeper  had 
announced  her  disappearance. 

"Gone!"  he  gasped  out,  reading  a  concealed 
perplexed  expression  in  the  woman's  face.  "  You 
let  her  go  when  you  know  I  was  interested." 

"  She  had  nothing  to  do  whatever  with  the  girl's 
departure,"  spoke  the  stern  voice  of  Ansel  Grey, 
suddenly  appearing  on  the  scene.  "  When  she 
awoke  this  morning  the  bed  was  vacant,  and  the 
rear  door  unlocked.  You  will  do  well  to  see  that 
nothing  is  missing,  Mrs.  Vivien." 

Percy  Grey  paled  at  the  pitiless  insinuation  of  his 
aged  uncle.  He  did  not  speak,  however,  then.  It 
was  only  after  he  had  fully  inquired  into  the  mat- 
ter of  Cinderella's  flight,  that  he  appeared  before 
Ansel  Grey  in  the  library. 

"  Uncle,"  he  said,  calmly  but  determinedly, 
"  underlying  the  sudden  departure  of  Myrtle  Blake 
from  this  house  is  a  mystery  and  a  plot.  Stay;  the 
words  ready  on  your  lips  to  bid  me  abandon  the 
poor  child  to  her  fate  are  futile.  I  shall  seek  her, 
and  I  shall  find  her.  I  shall  make  her  my  wife; 
and  if  I  find  that  through  you  her  departure  has 
been  caused,  I  will  never  darken  these  doors 
again." 

A  sudden  agony  of  alarm  crossed  Ansel  Grey's 
white  face. 


WEDDED   AND   LOST.  6 1 

"  Through  me!  "  he  stammered.  "  What  have  I 
to  do  or  care  for  the  girl,  except  to  save  you  from  a 
humiliating  mesalliance?  " 

"  That  I  know  not,  but  you  hate  this  girl,  hate 
the  innocence  and  purity  that  makes  her  a  queen 
among  women.  My  mind  is  determined.  I  love 
Myrtle  Blake,  and  she  shall  not  be  driven  from  the 
love  that  seeks  to  cherish  and  protect  her. " 

Then  he  was  gone  —  gone,  leaving  Ansel  Grey  a 
fretting,  fuming  monument  of  rage  and  dismay. 
His  heart  set  on  his  handsome  nephew,  he  too 
fully  realized  the  firmness  of  the  mind  he  could  never 
mold  to  his  will. 

"  Let  affairs  take  their  course,"  breathed  Blanche 
Vansant  in  his  ear,  as  they  met  at  the  breakfast- 
table;  "  he  will  never  find  Myrtle  Blake.  If  he  does, 
she  will  only  fly  the  farther  from  him.  Trust  me, 
believe  me.  I  have  plotted  too  surely  to  lose  the 
happiness  I  crave  —  the  love  of  the  man  who  will 
soon  forget  the  romantic  folly  of  a  passing  fancy." 
They  little  knew  the  fervency  and  depth  of  love 
that  had  inspired  Percy  Grey;  they  little  dreamed 
that  the  dark  plots  they  concealed  and  cherished 
were  destined  soon  to  work  out  new  complications, 
amidst  the  bewildering  confusion  of  which  they 
would  be  at  a  disadvantage,  as  well  as  the  innocent 
victims  of  their  mutual  scheme. 

For  Percy  Grey  no  longer  sought  to  hide  from 
himself  or  from  the  world  that  he  had  met  his  fate; 
that  the  love  he  had  experienced  and  the  influence 
of  Myrtle  Blake's  gentle  voice  and  winning  face  was 
the  love  of  his  lifetime, 

He  had  hoped  to  find  her  readily;  he  had  dis- 
missed the  growing  suspicion  of  some  sinister  in- 
fluence to  urge  Cinderella's  flight  for  the  time  being. 
A  visit  to  her  former  home  revealed  the  fact  of  her 
absence  since  the  previous  night.  A  call  at  the 
factory  gave  him  a  vague  trace  of  her.  He  grew 


62  WEDDED  AND  LOST. 

sick  at  heart  as  the  waning  afternoon  found  him 
treading  the  streets  in  vain  search  of  the  woman 
grown  so  unexpectedly  dear  to  him,  as  he  realized 
the  perils  that  beset  her  path. 

At  last,  in  sheer  despair,  Percy  Grey  called  at  a 
detective  agency.  A  special  officer  was  detailed 
to  follow  his  instructions.  He  furnished  him  a  de- 
scription of  the  missing  girl,  promising  him  a  liberal 
reward  for  the  disclosure  of  her  whereabouts,  and 
then,  weary  and  disappointed,  returned  home. 

The  brooding  anxiety  on  his  gloomy  face  warned 
Ansel  Grey  to  silence  and  revealed  his  disappoint- 
ment to  the  satisfied  Blanche  Vansant. 

"  He  will  not  find  her.  Myrtle  Blake  will  fly  the 
city,  to  her  death,  perhaps,"  she  whispered  huskily, 
as  she  watched  Percy  Grey  plunged  in  gloomy 
reverie,  from  a  shadowed  corner  of  the  drawing- 
room. 

It  was  shortly  after  dark  when  Blanche  Vansant 
aroused  to  a  quick  excitement  and  interest.  A  ring 
at  the  door-bell  had  been  followed  by  the  admission 
of  a  stranger  to  Percy  Grey's  presence,  and,  as  she 
heard  the  latter  employ  the  word  "  detective,"  she 
strained  her  hearing  to  catch  every  word  that  was 
said. 

"  I  have  traced  the  girl." 

Blanche  Vansant's  eyes  flashed  with  rage  as  she 
saw  Percy  Grey  spring  excitedly  to  his  feet  at  the 
glad  announcement. 

"  Where?"  he  demanded  rapturously,  eagerly. 

The  detective  named  the  place  whither  Cinderella 
had  been  lured  by  Bryce  Williard's  confederate  and 
her  former  working-companion.  He  was  volubly 
giving  the  details  of  his  labors  when  Percy  stopped 
him,  paying  him  for  his  services,  showing  him  to 
the  door,  and  then  hastening  to  his  own  room. 

Blanche  Vansant's  face  grew  hard  and  sullen. 

"  He   will   find   her;    his   headstrong  spirit  will 


WEDDED  AND   LOST.  63 

brook  no  interference  on  his  uncle's  part.  Will 
she  disregard  her  father's  injunctions?  Will  he 
dare  to  bring  her  here  again  to  defy  Ansel  Grey,  to 
torture  my  passionate  soul  with  her  presence?  " 

The  fair  hands  became  clinched,  the  woman's 
form  trembled  with  the  passion  that  consumed  her. 
Then  a  crafty,  determined  light  came  into  her  false 
eyes. 

"  I  will  follow  him.  I,  too,  will  seek  out  this  girl. 
She  shall  not  gain  this  man,  even  if  I  have  to  kill 
her,"  she  hissed  forth. 

It  was  five  minutes  later  that  Percy  Grey  hurried 
from    the    mansion.     His    steps    were    shadowed 
though  he  knew  it  not.     Blanche  Vansant,  attired 
in  a  dress  hastily  taken  from  a  servant's  room  and 
wearing  a  heavy  veil,  traced  him  step  by  step. 

He  reached  the  building  where  the  detective  had 
directed  him,  but  drew  back  slightly  as  a  suspicious 
scene  met  his  view.  A  carriage,  with  a  driver  on 
the  seat,  stood  in  front  of  the  structure;  a  man  who 
seemed  on  guard  stood  just  within  the  open  door- 
way. At  that  moment  a  familiar  cry  thrilled  every 
pulse  of  the  excited  Percy  Grey.  Looking  up,  he 
saw  the  window  of  a  room  on  the  second  floor  torn 
violently  open,  and  the  woman  he  sought  and  loved, 
Myrtle  Blake,  spring  upon  the  frail  balcony. 

He  could  not  hear  the  wild,  impetuous  words  she 
spoke,  but  his  quick  mind  discerned  that  she  was 
in  some  position  of  peril;  that  pursuit  from  the 
interior  of  the  apartment  had  driven  her  to  the  bal- 
cony. He  cast  but  one  glance  at  her,  and  then 
dashed  around  to  the  front  of  the  house. 

He  did  not  notice  the  shrinking  figure  of  a 
woman  that  flitted  past  him.  He  rudely  dashed 
aside  the  man  in  the  doorway.  Straight  up  the 
stairway  Percy  dashed,  singling  out  the  room  with 
the  balcony,  breaking  open  the  door,  and  confront- 
ing the  amazed  Bryce  Williard. 


64  WEDDED   AND    LOST. 

With  a  cry  of  wild  relief  and  joy,  Myrtle  Blake 
turned  from  the  balcony.  With  a  wild  oath,  Williard 
drew  a  knife  and  sprang  upon  the  foe  he  quickly 
recognized. 

Percy  Grey  read  the  newly-conceived  villainy  of 
the  man  he  so  despised.  He  warded  off  the  knife- 
thrust  of  the  murderous  wretch  and  dealt  him  a 
blow  that  sent  him  reeling  and  senseless  to  the 
floor. 

Cinderella,  forgetful  of  all  save  that  manly  pres- 
ence, with  clasped  hands  and  grateful  eyes  hastened 
towards  her  rescuer.  She  uttered  an  alarmed  cry 
as  the  sound  of  some  one  hastening  up  the  stairs 
awakened  her  to  a  new  sense  of  peril. 

"  Be  careful,"  she  quivered;  "  this  man  may  have 
his  accomplices  at  hand." 

"  He  has  them  at  hand,  but  I  do  not  fear  them. 
Wait.  Trust  all  ta  me.  I  will  avoid  an  open  con- 
flict, for  your  sake." 

Percy  Grey  seized  the  cloak  and  hat  of  the  pros- 
trate Williard  as  he  spoke.  He  clasped  the  arm  of 
the  half-fainting  girl  and  whispered  a  quick  caution 
into  her  ear. 

"  Obey  me;  follow  me,"  he  murmured,  as  the 
door  opened. 

The  man  he  had  thrust  aside  in  the  room  below 
had  come  into  the  apartment.  He  only  cast  a  cas- 
ual glance  at  the  prostrate  figure  on  the  floor,  and 
then,  deceived  by  Percy's  appearance  in  Williard's 
cloak  and  hat,  retreated  to  the  hall  again  with  the 
words  : 

"  Hurry  up,  Williard.  This  row  will  arouse  the 
police.  The  carriage  is  ready." 

He  led  the  way  down  the  stairs,  Percy  Grey  fol- 
lowing. The  latter  pressed  Myrtle's  hand  reassur- 
ingly as  the  man  opened  the  door  of  the  vehicle. 
He  half  hesitated,  then.  A  sudden  determination 
caused  him  to  enter  the  carriage. 


WEDDED   AND   LOST.  65 

The  man  sprang  to  the  seat  beside  the  driver,  the 
latter  being  no  other  than  Bryce  Williard's  former 
accomplice,  Bartels.  The  vehicle  dashed  down  the 
street.  One  minute  later  a  second  vehicle  dashed 
after  it.  Blanche  Vansant  was  still  on  the  myste- 
rious trail  of  the  startling  episode  of  the  night. 

The  reaction  from  the  excitement  she  had  gone 
through  caused  Myrtle  Blake  to  sink  back  among 
the  cushions  of  the  carriage,  almost  fainting.  A 
vague  remembrance  of  the  letter  from  her  father 
aroused  her  momentarily;  but  she  listened,  as  in  a 
dream,  to  the  words  of  her  rescuer. 

"  I  will  follow  out  this  adventure,"  he  said, 
quickly,  rapidly.  "  Cinderella,  my  poor,  persecuted 
child.  I  can  conceal  my  love  for  you  no  longer  — 
the  love  of  an  honest,  earnest  man.  That  love  has 
made  me  discover  that  you  are  the  victim  of  some 
dark  plot.  Bryce  Williard  has  not  sought  you  only 
for  your  beauty.  His  real  motive  I  shall  learn. 
Courage!  These  men  have  so  far  been  deceived 
by  my  disguise.  When  they  discover  the  truth,  I 
will  wring  their  guilty  secrets  from  their  lips. " 

The  carriage  had  taken  a  course  towards  the  river. 
It  turned  into  unfamiliar  lanes  and  by-ways,  and 
finally  paused.  Looking  ahead  a  square  or  so, 
surrounded  by  extensive  wharves  and  lumber-yards, 
Percy  Grey  saw  the  river  gleaming  darkly. 

The  vehicle  had  paused  before  a  dilapidated  hut. 

The  man  who  had  directed  him  to  the  carriage 
now  opened  the  door. 

"  You  seem  to  have  quieted  the  girl,"  he  mut- 
tered significantly.  "  The  place  is  reached,  and 
Bartels  will  go  at  once  for  the  minister." 

The  minister!     Percy  Grey's  eyes  flashed,  but  he 

was  silent.     He  reassured  the  frightened  girl  at  his 

side,  as  he  led  her  into  a  room   dimly  lighted  and 

saw  her  sink  into  a  chair.     He   glanced   anxiously 

Desperate  5. 


66  WEDDED   AND   LOST. 

at  the  man  speaking  with  Bartels,  who  drove  off  a 
moment  later. 

"  Why  did  you  come  here?  What  does  it  all 
mean?  "  murmured  Cinderella,  in  a  frightened, 
trembling  tone  of  voice. 

"  That  we  shall  soon  learn,"  replied  Percy, 
calmly.  "  Fear  not,  my  darling.  This  night  will 
see  Bryce  Williard's  plans  settled  for  good.  Ah, 
she  has  fainted!" 

His  words  were  verified  as  Cinderella,  with  a 
moan,  sank  back  in  the  chair,  pale  and  lifeless. 
Percy  was  anxiously  chafing  her  hand  when  the 
door  opened.  Williard's  accomplice  had  led  a 
dark,  clerical-looking  man  into  the  room. 

"  It's  all  right,  Williard,"  he  whispered;  "  here  is 
the  clergyman.  I  sent  the  carriage  back.  Do  you 
need  any  help?" 

"No." 

A  confused  thrill  held  Percy  Grey  silent  for  a 
moment  or  two.  He  tried  to  realize  what  had 
transpired,  and  then  in  a  flash  the  truth  came  to 
his  mind.  Bryce  Williard  intended  forcing  Myrtle 
Blake  into  an  unwilling  marriage.  A  wild  impulse 
crossed  Percy  Grey's"  mind  as  he  saw  the  fair  young 
girl  open  her  eyes  to  consciousness  once  more. 

In  burning,  eloquent  words,  whispered  quickly 
into  her  startled  ear,  he  told  her  all.  In  the  plead- 
ing tones  of  love  he  imparted  to  her  how  dear  she 
was  to  him,  how  security  and  peace  could  be  ob- 
tained by  taking  advantage  of  Bryce  Williard's  pro- 
vision to  wed  her. 

"  Become  my  wife, "he breathed  intensely.  "  The 
clergy  man  is  here;  all  is  ready;  oh,  my  darling,  my 
darling!  if  you  can  love  a  man  who  would  sacrifice 
his  life  for  you,  consent." 

She  shrank  back  with  a  timid  cry,  but  he  mistook 
its  import,  little  dreaming  of  the  vague,  haunting 
memory  of  a  father's  dying  injunction  that  filled 


WEDDED  AND  LOST.  6/ 

her  mind.  But  he  read  the  love-light  in  her  eyes. 
He  drew  her  swaying  form  closer  to  his  own;  he 
heeded  not  her  half-dismayed  murmur,  as  he  said 
to  the  stranger  before  her: 

"Proceed  with  the  ceremony." 

The  weird  scene,  the  strange  clergyman,  all  were 
forgotten  amid  the  excitement  and  love  that  thrilled 
Percy  Grey's  soul.  He  noted  that  the  form  at  his 
side  trembled  unsteadily;  he  noted  that  a  battle  of 
emotions  seemed  prevailing  in  her  mind;  but  he 
caught  her  to  his  arms  as  the  ceremony  con- 
cluded. The  clergyman  withdrew  at  the  beckon- 
ing nod  of  Williard's  accomplice  at  the  door. 

"  Mine,  all  mine,"  he  whispered.  "  My  darling 
wife,  my  Cinderella!  Look  up  and  tell  me  you 
love  me!  " 

Love  him!  He  had  only  to  glance  at  the  long- 
ing, agitated  face  to  read  a  love  deeper  than  his 
own.  She  could  not  speak;  she  could  not  think. 
A  ray  of  blissful  happiness  seemed  to  thrill  her  soul 
—  an  echoing  influence  of  that  letter  from  her 
father  appalled  her  mind. 

"What  have  I  done?  My  father,  my  father, 
forgive  me !  " 

Percy  Grey  led  her  toward  the  door,  un- 
heeding her  incoherent  words.  The  clergyman 
had  gone,  the  carriage  too.  Williard's  acccomplice 
stared  curiously  at  him. 

"  Ain't  you  going  to  stay  here?  I  thought  you 
decided " 

"  I  will  return,"  was  the  quiet  reply.  "  The  girl 
needs  air;  let  me  pass.  Courage,  Cinderella,"  he 
whispered  to  his  clinging  charge.  "  Ah,  what  is 
that?  " 

They  had  proceeded  toward  the  lighted  streets 
of  the  city.  He  drew  aside  into  a  little  lane  lead- 
ing to  the  river  as  he  looked  ahead.  A  wild,  hat- 
less  form  was  dashing  toward  the  old  hut. 


68  WEDDED  AND  LOST. 

"  Bryce  Williard,"  muttered  Percy  Grey,  be- 
tween his  teeth.  "  If  I  were  alone,  I  would  punish 
him  as  he  deserves." 

"  No,  no;  fly,  Percy,  fly.  He  will  do  you  harm. 
This  way.  In  Heaven's  name  do  not  further  im- 
peril yourself  for  my  sake." 

A  sweet  thrill  of  joy  at  her  tender  words  caused 
Percy  to  obey  her.  He  threaded  the  dark  lane, 
hoping  to  find  a  safe  retreat  for  her,  and,  returning, 
face  down  the  villain  who  had  persecuted  her. 

The  lane  terminated  directly  at  the  river's  banks. 
There  was  no  way  leading  thence  to  the  street. 
Percy  Grey  paused  as  he  glanced  back.  Two 
forms  were  scouring  the  vicinity  for  some 
trace  of  the  fugitives.  Bryce  Williard,  recovering 
from  Percy  Grey's  assault,  was  on  the  trail  of  the 
girl  he  had  plotted  against  and  lost. 

"  Hide  yourself  anywhere,"  spoke  Percy,  "  and 
fear  not  for  me." 

A  little  yawl-boat,  secured  by  a  rope  to  the 
wharf,  lay  by  its  side.  The  trembling  girl  obeyed 
his  injunction,  stepping  within  the  boat,  and, 
breathless  and  pale,  peered  down  the  lane  in  the 
direction  he  faced. 

From  a  pile  of  lumber,  near  at  hand,  a  dark, 
flashing  face  looked  forth  at  that  moment.  Neither 
saw  her,  engrossed  in  the  exciting  episode  of  the 
moment.  With  the  crafty  silence  of  the  serpent, 
the  veiled  figure  suddenly  crept  into  view,  then 
nearer  and  nearer  to  the  boat.  A  knife  flashed 
forth.  A  keen,  sharp  blade  rent  the  rope  securing 
the  frail  bark. 

A  wild  scream  of  alarm  parted  Myrtle  Blake's 
lips,  as  she  turned  and  saw  the  woman  spring 
quickly  back  into  cover. 

Percy  Grey,  turning,  uttered  a  groan  of  horror, 
which  mingled  with  the  cry  of  his  imperiled  bride. 
He  only  saw  the  form  of  the  mysterious  intruder 


A  DESPERATE  PLOTTER.  69 

disappear;  saw  a  jeweled  bracelet,  unclasped  in 
the  struggle,  drop  at  his  feet,  and,  seizing  it  quickly, 
he  sprang  toward  the  wharf. 

He  forget  the  secret  enemy,  the  advancing  Wil- 
liard  and  his  emissary.  Flinging  his  hat  to  the 
wharf,  he  stepped  to  its  very  edge  to  spring  reck- 
lessly after  the  frantic  Cinderella,  fast  being  borne 
down  the  stream. 

He  started,  as  if  dealt  a  sudden  blow.  A  hoarse 
whistle  rent  the  air.  A  huge,  black,  moving  mass, 
a  rushing  tug-boat,  rounded  a  curve  of  the  river  and 
drove  down  on  the  frail  bark.  A  bubbling  roar, 
a  splash,  and  the  huge  tossing  boat  crashed  into 
the  frail  yawl  containing  the  bride  of  an  hour. 

He  staggered  where  he  stood,  his  eyes  blinded, 
his  senses  reeling.  Life  was  an  agonized  blur;  he 
reeled  frantically  forward,  his  bloodless  lips  gasping 
forth  the  words: 

"  Merciful  Heavens!  My  Cinderella;  my  darling 
bride,  she  is  lost!" 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  DESPERATE  PLOTTER. 

TWO  hours  after  the  occurrence  of  the  events 
detailed  in  the  last  chapter,  there  was  a  quick,  sharp 
ring  at  the  door-bell  of  Ansel  Grey's  stately  man- 
sion. 

Its  proprietor  had  not  yet  retired  to  rest.  The 
startling  developments  of  the  past  few  days,  and, 
perhaps,  a  vague,  uneasy  premonition  of  some  new 
impending  peril  had  made  the  life  of  the  old  man 
an  anxious  one  of  late. 

As  on  the  evening  when  the  sight  of  Myrtle 
Blake's  white  face  had  recalled  a  dreadful  past,  and 
brought  back  a  haunting  dread  at  its  revival,  so  now 


70  A  DESPERATE  PLOTTER. 

Ansel  Grey  followed  the  servant  to  the  door,  curi- 
ous as  to  the  identity  of  so  late  a  visitor. 

"What  is  it?"  he  demanded,  sharply,  pressing 
past  the  servant  as  he  caught  the  mention  of  his 
nephew's  name. 

"  An  accident,  or  worse,  sir,"  answered  a  man 
attired  in  semi-official  uniform.  "  I  was  asking  this 
girl  here  if  I've  come  to  the  right  place." 

"  About  what  ?  " 

"  Is  that  the  name  of  any  one  living  here,  sir?" 

Ansel  Grey's  trembling  hand  seized  the  envelope 
the  officer  had  presented. 

"  Percy  Grey!  "  he  gasped  out,  apprehensively, 
reading  his  nephew's  name.  "  Has  anything  hap- 
pened to  him?  " 

"  The  man  in  whose  pocket  we  found  that,  and 
other  letters  like  it,  sir,  is  in  a  carriage  yonder." 

"  And  injured?     Not  seriously?  " 

"  Dead  or  dying.  There's  no  use  hiding  the  truth, 
sir.  We  found  him  lying  in  a  pool  of  blood  near  the 
river. " 

Ansel  Grey  waited  for  no  further  words.  His 
face  was  white  with  horror  and  grief  as  he  tore  down 
the  steps  leading  to  the  street. 

Within  the  carriage,  his  head  supported  by  another 
officer  of  the  harbor  police,  was  Percy  Grey,  mo- 
tionless and  insensible. 

There  was  a  ghastly  pallor  on  the  handsome  face, 
and  the  clustering  hail'  was  matted  and  wet  with 
the  blood  which  issued  from  a  deep  wound  near  the 
temple. 

The  officers  had  but  to  gaze  on  the  agonized  feat- 
ures of  Ansel  Grey  to  read  there  the  answer  to  their 
question  regarding  their  charge.  As  they  bore  him 
to  the  steps  and  into  a  chamber,  the  old  man  wrung 
his  hands  like  one  demented. 

"  My  Percy,  my  brave  boy!''  he  wailed.  "  I  have 
killed  him  by  driving  him  forth  to  seek  her.  Dolts! 


A  DESPERATE  PLOTTER.  7 1 

idiots!  "  he  raved,  his  old  irritability  flashing  forth 
as  the  men  and  the  servants  stared  helplessly  at  his 
grief.  "  You  stand  here  when  he  may  be  dying  — 
he,  my  only  stay  and  hope.  A  doctor,  a  surgeon, 
quick!  He  must  not  die  —  he  shall  not  die!  " 

A  face  whiter  than  his  own,  eyes  that  rivaled  his 
glittering  ones  in  their  expression  of  utter  anguish, 
looked  in  on  the  scene  a  minute  later. 

Blanche  Vansant,  seated  in  her  own  apartment, 
had  listened  with  bated  breath  to  the  gossiping  an- 
nouncement of  a  servant  passing  by,  to  the  effect 
that  Percy  Grey  had  been  brought  home  dead. 

The  words  had  chilled  her  guilty  soul  to  horror. 
In  a  flash  she  seemed  to  recognize  a  swift  retribu- 
tion in  fate  thus  robbing  her  of  Percy  Grey's  love 
after  all  her  evil  plotting. 

How  she  had  waited  and  watched  for  Percy  Grey's 
return ! 

"  He  will  be  mine,  all  mine,  now,  my  rival  re- 
moved from  my  path,"  she  had  told  her  longing 
heart,  as  she  stood  at  the  mantel  and  counted  the 
slow  minutes  as  they  passed. 

He  would  never  know  of  her  part  in  the  death  of 
Myrtle  Blake,  and  from  the  memory  of  her  love 
the  siren  believed  she  could  win  him  in  time. 

Hers  had  been  the  hand  which  had  cut  adrift  the 
boat  at  the  river  which  held  Myrtle  Blake. 

She  had  followed  the  carriage  containing  the  per- 
secuted Cinderella  and  Percy  Grey,  but  had  dis- 
missed it  temporarily  when  she  saw  the  man  she 
loved  and  the  woman  she  hated  enter  the  house 
where  the  marriage  ceremony  had  taken  place. 

Of  that  ceremony,  however,  she  had  no  knowl- 
edge. She  had  followed  the  wedded  pair  silently,  se- 
cretly; had  cut  the  boat  adrift;  had  witnessed  Percy 
Grey's  agony,  and  then,  with  the  satisfied  hate  of  a 
demon  at  witnessing  Myrtle  Blake  at  last  removed 
from  her  path,  had  fled  from  the  spot,  little  dream- 


72  A  DESPERATE   PLOTTER. 

ing  that  even  her  shrewd  soul  had  lost  the  connect- 
ing link  in  the  chain  of  circumstances  surrounding 
the  plottings  of  that  weird  night. 

She  had  waited  for  Percy's  return  after  gaining 
the  mansion,  hour  by  hour,  and  now  it  had  come  — 
thus! 

First  the  cold  anguish  of  utter  despair  had  chilled 
her  tortured  heart;  then  faint  hope  warmed  it  again 
to  the  passionate  longing  of  all  her  intense  nature. 

For  the  surgeon,  hastily  summoned,  had  come  at 
last.  Percy  Grey  was  not  dead,  nor  dying,  but  he 
had  received  such  a  terrible  wound  —  a  wound,  the 
surgeon  said  gravely,  which  might  confine  him  to 
his  bed  in  delirium  and  suffering  for  many  a  long 
week. 

"  I  will  be  his  nurse,"  said  Blanche  Vansant  jeal- 
ously, when  the  doctor  spoke  of  the  necessity  of 
constant  and  skilled  care. 

And  she  whispered  to  her  leaping  heart  wildly: 

"  And  I  will  win  him  back  to  life,  to  hope;  to 
love.  I  will  gain  his  gratitude,  and  then  the  affec- 
tion I  so  crave.  But  for  this  cruel  injury!  Bryce  Wil- 
liard  wrought  it.  He  shall  pay  for  it  —  he  shall 
rue  it  dearly." 

She  had  no  further  need  of  his  cooperation  now, 
and  her  selfish  nature  wavered  not  as  she  thought 
of  how,  having  served  her  turn,  she  might  get  rid 
of  the  man  whose  knowledge  of  her  life  was  danger- 
ous to  her  interests. 

"  I  have  gained  all  in  the  removal  of  a  rival  from 
my  path,"  she  murmured.  "  He  has  lost  Myrtle 
Blake,  and  will  haunt  my  path  —  in  his  rage  at  her 
death  probably  vengefully  telling  my  past  to  Percy 
Grey  at  my  hour  of  triumph.  He  is  an  unsafe  ally, 
a  dangerous  enemy.  I  must  drive  him  from  the 
city,  and  then  gain  Percy  Grey's  love,  and  name, 
and  fortune." 

For  the  present,  however,  Blanche  Vansant  aban- 


A   DESPERATE   PLOTTER.  73 

doned  every  thought  and  energy  to  the  care  of 
Percy  Grey.  All  through  the  remainder  of  that 
night  and  the  ensuing  day  she  hovered  over  his 
coach  constantly. 

The  period  of  insensibility  had  been  followed  by 
one  of  high  fever  and  delirium.  The  siren's  dark 
eyes  showed  how  little  of  remorse  and  regret  she 
experienced,  how  much  of  jealousy  and  hatred  she 
bore  for  the  dead  even  now,  when  the  pallid  lips  of 
Percy  Grey,  amid  his  ravings,  named  the  dear  name 
of  his  murdered  love. 

She  was  almost  worn  out  with  solicitude  and  care 
that  evening,  and  was  passing  through  the  hall  to 
her  own  room  when  a  servant  handed  her  a  letter. 

It  had  been  sent  by  mail,  and  she  wondered  at 
that  incautious  operation  on  the  part  of  her  corre- 
spondent, as  she  recognized  the  handwriting  from 
the  superscription. 

"  Bryce  Williard,"  she  murmured,  hastening  to 
her  room;  "  what  can  he  have  to  write  to  me?  " 

The  letter  was  a  brief  one,  and  hurriedly  indited, 
for  it  was  scrawled  in  pencil.  It  ran: 

"  Come  and  see  me  to-night  at  the  address  given 
below.  I  am  mixed  up  in  some  bad  trouble,  through 
Bartels,  and  you  must  help  me  out  of  it." 

She  thought  over  the  letter  for  a  long  time.  Then, 
wearied  as  she  was,  she  determined  to  reply  to  it 
personally. 

It  was  an  hour  later  when  Blanche  Vansant 
reached  the  place  designated  in  Bryce  Williard's 
note.  It  proved  to  be  a  dilapidated  building  in  a 
wretched  portion  of  the  city,  and  she  drew  her  veil 
closer  as  several  men  lounging  about  the  entrance 
to  the  house  stared  curiously  at  her. 

When  at  length  she  found  the  room  to  which  she 
had  been  directed,  and  was  finally  admitted,  Wil- 
liard's caution  in  opening  the  door,  and  his  frequent 
glances  from  the  window  to  the  street,  told  her,  to- 


74  A  DESPERATE  PLOTTER. 

gether  with  his  pale  face  and  anxious  manner,  that 
something  unusual  had  occurred. 

"  What  is  it?  "  demanded  Blanche,  sharply,  fear- 
ing some  new  complication  in  her  own  affairs. 
"  Why  have  you  sent  for  me?  You  wrote  that  you 
were  in  trouble." 

"lam." 

"  In  what  way?  " 

"  Through  your  precious  plotting  and  Grey's 
meddling.  We  have  no  time  to  lose,  Blanche 
Vansant;  we  have  played  a  deep  game,  and  it  has 
resulted  in  utter  defeat.  The  girl,  Cinderella,  is 
dead  —  so  much  ior  my  loss.  Percy  Grey " 

The  woman's  eyes  flashed  a  latent  fire. 

"  Why  did  you  try  to  kill  him?  "  she  asked,  in  a 
tone  of  voice  that  was  tremulous  with  half-sup- 
pressed rage  and  emotion. 

"  Was  I  going  to  let  him  kill  me,  when  he  sprang 
at  me  like  a  tiger  on  the  river  bank,  and  when  I 
saw  the  woman  I  had  schemed  for  a  victim  to  his 
rashness  in  placing  her  in  an  unsecured  boat?" 

Blanche  Vansant's  dark  eyes  veiled  a  triumphant 
expression.  She  breathed  more  freely.  Williard 
had  no  suspicion  of  her  part  in  the  casting  adrift  of 
the  boat. 

"  I  was  wild  with  rage  when  Percy  Grey  stole 
Myrtle  Blake  from  my  power,"  resumed  Williard. 
"  When  I  recovered  from  the  etfects  of  the  blow  he 
dealt  me  at  the  house  whence  he  fled  in  the  carriage 
with  the  girl,  I  sped  after  him.  I  saw  him  dashing 
toward  the  river,  and  it  was  there  we  had  a  hand- 
to-hand  conflict.  When  I  saw  the  harbor  police 
coming,  I  turned  to  find  Bartels.  He  had  disap- 
peared, but  an  hour  later  I  knew  why. " 

Blanche  Vansant  looked  interested.  Neither  she 
nor  Williard  knew  of  the  marriage  ceremony  per- 
formed between  Percy  Grey  and  Myrtle  Blake, 


A  DESPERATE  PLOTTER.  75 

Williard's  narrative  showed  that  he  had  arrived  too 
late  to  witness  it  or  to  hear  of  it. 

"  The  man  Darrell,  who,  with  Bartels,  had  been 
helping  me  to  carry  out  my  plot  against  the  girl, 
came  to  me  at  my  rooms  a  few  hours  later,  how- 
ever," continued  Williard.  "  He  was  in  a  high 
state  of  excitement.  I  never  told  you,  out  we  three 
have  been  engaged  in  a  little  private  speculation 
for  some  time." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  inquired  Blanche, 
curiously. 

Bryce  Williard  motioned  her  to  silence,  and  arose 
slowly  to  his  feet. 

He  walked  stealthily  to  the  door,  and  listened 
intently.  Then  he  crossed  to  the  windows,  and 
peered  down  at  the  street. 

Seemingly,  he  had  satisfied  himself  that  no  one 
was  likely  to  see  or  overhear  them,  for  he  went  to 
a  corner  of  the  miserably  furnished  room,  and,  lifting 
aboard,  drew  forth  two  tightly  secured  packages. 

"  Bartels  has  been  arrested,  and  Darrell  has  nar- 
rowly escaped  the  same  fate,  and  has  now  left  the 
city,"  said  Williard.  "  We  were  all  in  a  game  to 
make  money,  but  the  police  must  have  been  watch- 
ing Bartels,  and  probably  myself,  for  some  time. 
Anyway,  Darrell  directed  me  to  come  to  their  room 
and  secure  these  two  packages.  I  came.  When  I 
went  to  leave,  I  saw  in  the  vicinity  several  men 
whom  I  recognized  as  detectives.  They  may  not 
want  me,  particularly,  as  I  have  kept  in  the  dark  in 
this  case,  but  they  know  Bartels  had  a  room  here, 
and  have  seen  me  in  it.  When  I  leave  I  may  be 
stopped  and  searched.  Whether  I  go  or  not,  the 
room  will  be  ransacked." 

"Well?  "  uttered  Blanche,  impatiently. 

"  They  must  not  find  these  packages.  Take 
them,  and  secure  them  well  about  you." 


76  A  DESPERATE  PLOTTER. 

Blanche  Vansant  obeyed  him,  but  asked,  "  What 
are  they?  " 

"  One  is  a  package  of  counterfeit  bonds." 

"  And  the  other?  " 

"  The  results  of  our  speculation  —  over  forty 
thousand  dollars  in  cash.  " 

The  woman  started,  and  her  eyes  gleamed 
avariciously  at  the  mention  of  so  large  an  amount 
of  money. 

"  I  trust  you  with  them  until  I  can  return  safely," 
said  Williard. 

"  You  intend  to  leave  the  city,  then?  " 

"  Yes,  until  this  affair  is  over,  provided  I  am  not 
arrested.  If  I  am,  you  must  promise  to  quietly  use 
the  money  to  secure  my  own  liberation  and  that  of 
Bartels." 

"  I  promise,"  uttered  the  false  lips,  while  the  false, 
cruel  heart  beat  triumphantly  at  the  acquisition 
of  a  new  power  over  Bryce  Williard's  wealth  and 
secrets. 

"  Go  now,  and  I  will  later  try  to  escape.  I  man- 
aged to  send  the  letter  I  wrote  you  undetected  to 
the  mail.  I  may  successfully  evade  the  officers.  I 
will  write  you  when  I  can.  Meantime,  your  plans 
regarding  Percy  Grey " 

"  I  have  none,"  lied  the  woman,  shortly.  "  Fare- 
well!" 

She  passed  from  the  apartment,  her  trusting 
accomplice  never  doubting  her  fidelity.  She  passed 
the  detective  unquestioned,  and  reached  the  Grey 
mansion  in  safety. 

"  Forty  thousand  dollars!"  she  murmured  as  she 
secured  the  two  packages  Williard  had  given  her  in 
a  cabinet.  "  It  gives  me  new  means  to  carry  out 
my  plans.  Bryce  Williard  has  placed  himself  com- 
pletely in  my  power,  and  his  fear  of  the  police  will 
keep  him  away  from  the  city  until  my  plans  are 
accomplished,  and  I  can  defy  him." 


NEW   COMPLICATIONS.  ?/ 

She  reckoned  on  clear  sailing  in  the  future.  She 
littled  dreamed,  however,  that  her  own  and  Wil- 
liard's  ignorance  of  what  had  occurred  in  the  river- 
side house,  when  Percy  Grey  and  Myrtle  Blake  were 
made  man  and  wife,  was  the  one  dropped  link  in 
the  chain  of  destiny,  the  one  key-note  to  the 
episodes  of  the  future,  that  was  to  complicate  and 
defeat  her  most  cherished  plans. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

NEW  COMPLICATIONS. 

WHILE  Blanche  Vansant  was  weaving  ner  net  of 
plot  and  intrigue  around  those  whose  destinies  she 
sought  to  encompass  within  its  meshes,  one  of  her 
innocent  victims  lay  at  the  portals  of  death,  all 
unconscious  of  her  motives  and  their  operation. 

The  hours  of  the  night  drifted  into  dawn,  and 
night  coming  again  found  Percy  Grey  wildly 
battling  with  the  vagaries  of  delirium,  or  passively 
submitting  to  the  apathy  and  stupor  of  exhaustion 
and  despair. 

The  days  drifted  into  weeks,  and  he  knew  it  not. 
If,  when  he  opened  his  eyes,  the  shaded  room 
showed  his  uncle  gravely,  solicitously  watching  him 
from  an  easy  chair,  or  the  light,  flitting  figure  of 
the  siren  hovering  over  his  couch,  there  was  no 
gleam  of  expressed  recognition  in  Percv  Grey's 
weary  eyes. 

Only  ever  and  anon  the  white  lips  would  move 
and  frame  the  beloved  names  of  "  Cinderella  — 
Myrtle,"  the  wasted  fingers  would  seem  to  grope 
for  the  responsive  touch  of  the  hand  that  had 
vanished. 

In  such  moments  Blanche  Vansant's  dusky  brow 


78  NEW   COMPLICATIONS. 

would  darken,  and  the  jealous  eyes  would  flame  to 
angry  hatred,  even  of  the  woman  she  believed  dead. 

"  Patience,  patience!  "  she  would  whisper  to  her 
turbulent  heart.  "  He  will  forget  in  time  —  he  will 
yet  be  mine,  if  artifice  or  devotion,  or  both  com- 
bined, can  win  him." 

Never  was  there  a  more  tender  nurse.  It  seemed 
as  if  Blanche  Vansant  had  put  all  the  past  behind 
her,  and  thought  only  of  attaining  the  one  cherished 
object  of  her  life,  the  love  of  the  man  for  whom  she 
had  plotted  so  deeply. 

From  the  first,  ill  as  Percy  Grey  was,  the  attend- 
ing physician  had  given  hopes  of  his  ultimate  recov- 
ery. The  wound  in  the  head  had  affected  the 
brain  temporarily,  but  this  would,  he  affirmed,  in 
time  disappear,  and  so  it  was,  for  one  bright  morn- 
ing Percy  Grey  came  back  to  life,  and  opened  his 
eyes  to  the  realities  of  existence  once  more. 

To  dwell  upon  the  events  of  the  week  that  fol- 
lowed would  be  only  to  depict  the  sufferings  of  a  dis- 
tressed soul  bereft  of  all  earthly  hope  and  joy.  The 
past  seemed  to  him  a  dreary  blank,  the  future  a 
dark  void.  He  asked  no  questions  of  his  uncle  — 
what  could  he  know  of  the  events  of  that  wild 
night  at  the  river?  He  never  suspected  Blanche 
Vansant's  agency  in  the  matter.  Cherishing  his 
secret,  thinking  only  of  the  untimely  fate  of  the 
woman  he  loved,  Percy  Grey  at  last  arose  from  his 
sick-bed,  a  man  haunted  with  a  torturing  memory 
of  the  bereavement  of  that  weird  wedding-night. 

Often  in  his  days  of  convalescence  his  nobler 
nature  would  flash  forth,  and  a  kindly  gratitude  be- 
come expressed  to  Blanche  for  her  devotion  to  him 
when  he  was  ill.  But  to  him  it  was  the  mockery 
of  friendship.  His  heart  was  buried  in  the  past, 
and  he  little  dreamed  of  the  wild,  passionate  joy 
even  this  faint  recognition  gave  to  the  waiting, 
hoping  siren. 


NEW  COMPLICATIONS.  79 

She  had  not  again  spoken  to  Ansel  Grey  of  the 
power  she  held  over  him.  Between  these  two  a  tacit 
understanding  existed.  The  old  man  knew  that 
she  would  claim  his  aid  when  the  proper  time  came, 
and  was  content  to  adjudge  her  a  faithful  ally,  and 
accept  her  terms  to  shield  himself  from  the  dread 
of  the  secret  she  held  over  him. 

That  time  dawned  at  last.  She  had  wearied  of 
seeing  her  most  artful  blandishments  thrown  away 
on  Percy  Grey.  Except  for  a  courteous  bow,  or 
the  exchange  of  a  few  words  when  he  met  her  at 
the  table,  Percy  Grey  was  as  distant  from  her  as 
ever.  When  he  finally  recovered  his  health,  thin- 
ner and  paler  than  of  yore,  but  still  the  same  hand- 
some Percy  she  loved,  and  daily  left  the  house  as 
if  its  confinement  were  that  of  a  prison,  Blanche 
Vansant  clinched  her  fair  hands  in  mute  despair, 
and  tried  vainly  to  devise  some  means  of  winning 
his  interested  attention. 

She  had  not  heard  of  Bryce  Williard  since  the 
night  she  had  obtained  the  money,  and  the  crafty 
look  in  her  eyes  when  she  thought  of  him  told  that 
her  soul  was  capable  of  any  treachery  to  remove 
him  from  her  path,  should  his  possible  reappear- 
ance conflict  with  any  of  her  schemes. 

Twice  she  had  followed  Percy  Grey  from  the 
house,  deeply  veiled,  curious  to  learn  how  he 
passed  his  time.  The  result  was  an  important  dis- 
covery on  her  part. 

Percy  Grey  had  visited  the  scene  of  the  river 
episode  immediately  after  his  recovery.  All  search 
for  Bryce  Williard  and  his  associates  had  proved 
unavailing,  and  his  investigation  only  confirmed 
the  belief  that  Myrtle  Blake  had  been  drowned. 

He  learned  that  a  few  days  after  her  seeming 
death  a  mutilated  form,  that  of  a  woman,  crushed 
beyond  recognition,  apparently  by  passing  ships, 
had  been  found  in  the  river,  taken  to  the  morgue, 


80  NEW   COMPLICATIONS. 

and,  not  being  identified,  had  been  buried  in  the 
common  grave  of  the  poor. 

His  tortured  heart  impelled  him  to  the  belief  that 
it  was  his  lost  bride.  He  accepted  this  as  the 
truth.  He  ordered  the  body  removed.  Secretly 
it  was  conveyed  to  a  beautiful  cemetery  near  the 
city,  and  over  the  newly-made  mound,  consecrated 
by  his  tears  of  love  and  regret,  Percy  cast  a  wreath 
of  flowers  as  a  last  token  to  the  memory  of  the 
girl-wife  he  had  loved  and  lost. 

All  this  Blanche  Vansant  learned,  and  realizing 
that  he  still  clung  to  the  past  and  its  memories  as 
fondly  as  ever,  lost  patience  and  faith  in  her  pow- 
ers of  personal  enchantment,  and  decided  to  ac- 
complish by  intrigue  what  her  powers  of  witchery 
had  failed  to  bring  about. 

Her  opportunity  came  at  last.  With  a  pallid 
face  and  trembling  mein  Ansel  Grey  came  to  her 
one  day  and  led  her  into  the  library. 

She  knew  instinctively  that  something  porten- 
tous had  occurred,  for  he  locked  the  door  com- 
municating with  the  hall,  and  glanced  nervously 
around,  as  with  husky  voice  and  tear-filled  eyes  he 
bade  her  be  seated. 

"  What  has  happened?  "  she  demanded  sharply, 
her  searching  glance  sweeping  his  face  curiously. 

He  drew  his  chair  nearer  to  her  own,  crumpling 
a  folded  sheet  of  paper  in  his  hand  as  he  spoke. 

"  Ruin!  Dishonor!  "  he  whispered,  hoarsely. 
"  Listen  to  me,  Blanche  Vansant,  and  heed  me 
well,  for  all  the  fabric  of  fraud  and  deceit  we  both 
have  reared  bids  fair  to  topple  to  the  ground. " 

Blanche  started,  but  did  not  interrupt  the  old 
man  as  he  continued: 

"  You  forced  on  me  an  alliance  with  yourself;  it 
is  well;  but  you  must  aid  me  when  unforeseen  exi- 
gencies occur.  You  hold  a  secret  over  me  con- 
cerning Myrtle  Blake's  father  that  would  ruin  me, 


NEW  COMPLICATIONS.  8l 

You  demanded  that  Percy  Grey  wed  you,  or  you 
would  reveal  that  secret,  and  I  agreed.  I  still  agree; 
but  a  new  enemy  has  arisen,  a  new  peril  menaces 
us.  Read!  " 

He  had  opened  the  paper  he  had  crumpled,  and 
had  thrust  it  into  her  hand. 

With  a  perplexed  air,  yet  vaguely  alarmed, 
Blanche  Vansant  read: 

"  I  have  called  upon  you  again,  and  helped  my- 
self to  your  store.  You  disowned  me  and  drove 
me  to  poverty  and  then  to  crime.  I  return  after 
five  years  to  find  Percy  Grey  installed  as  your 
favorite  and  heir.  I  take  what  should  be  my  share, 
and  go.  Pursue  me,  place  the  officers  on  my  track, 
and  I  will  tell  the  secret  of  your  wealth,  and  drag 
you  to  prison  with  me.  Your  dealings  with  John 
Blake  are  known  to  me.  If  you  are  wise,  pocket 
your  loss  philosophically,  and'leave  me  alone. 

"  I  will  not  trouble  you  again.  Samuel  Towns- 
end,  our  distant  relative,  I  will  appeal  to  next  time, 
as  he  can  spare  me  what  money  I  want  better 
than  you,  unless  you  have  prejudiced  him,  too, 
against  me.  Now,  accept  the  consequences,  or  the 
family  secrets  shall  be  made  public. " 

The  penciled  scrawl  bore  a  signature  entirely 
unfamiliar  to  Blanche  Vansant  —  it  was  "  Earle 
Townsend." 

She  looked  up  at  Ansel  Grey,  with  a  mystified 
expression  in  her  eyes. 

"  What  does  this  mean?"  she  asked,  simply. 

"  It  means  a  new  complication  in  all  our  plans  ; 

it  means    that  unless  I    can    realize   from  certain 

securities  I  possess,  I  am  a  beggar.     For  the  last 

six  months,  haunted  with  the  dread  that  my  past 

might  some  day  confront  me,  I  have  been  secretly 

converting  all  I  possessed  into  ready  cash.     I  was 

amazed   at   the   small   amount  I  realized,  for  my 

fortune,  by  bad  management,  had    wasted  away. 

Desperate  6. 


82  NEW  COMPLICATIONS. 

To -day  I  have  its  bulk  invested  in  a  venture  which 
may  turn  out  richly.  The  money  taken  from  yonder 
safe  last  night  robs  me  of  the  ready  cash  to  re- 
deem myself.  It  is  fate  ;  it  is  retribution  !  The 
nephew  I  have  loved  will  be  beggared;  he  will 
learn  of  my  crimes  ;  he  will  hate  me,  and  the  man 
who  has  robbed  me  has  fled,  and  I  dare  not  pursue 
him." 

"Who  is  he?" 

"  A  nephew  so  resembling  Percy  that  they  seemed 
like  brothers;  a  willful,  wicked  man  I  disowned  for 
his  evil  career,  who  now,  knowing  my  secrets, 
trades  upon  their  value." 

Ansel  Grey's  face  fell  upon  his  hands,  while  the 
woman's  eyes  were  bent  upon  him,  with  a  specu- 
lating light  in  their  dark  depths.  She  startled  him 
with  her  first  words: 

"  I  can  help  you.  Ansel  Grey,  induce  Percy  to 
wed  me,  and  at  once;  agree  to  leave  the  city  with 
us,  and  what  of  your  fortune  you  can  retrieve,  and  I 
will  furnish  you  the  means  to  repair  your  broken 
wealth." 

"You!" 

Ansel  Grey  regarded  his  companion  in  bewildered 
incredulity. 

Her  answer  was  to  draw  from  her  bosom  a  pack- 
age. It  was  the  money  Bryce  Williard  had  intrusted 
to  her  charge. 

"Promise!"  she  cried.  "The  money  is  here, 
mine,  yours,  but  Percy  Grey  must  make  me  his 
wife."' 

An  eager,  avaricious  light  came  into  the  old 
man's  face.  His  thin  fingers  reached  tremblingly 
for  the  coveted  wealth. 

"  I  promise  it.     I  swear  it!"  he  cried,  wildly. 

That  night  Percy  Grey  knew  that  in  some  mys- 
terious way  Blanche  Vansant  had  saved  his  uncle 
from  bankruptcy. 


A  TERRIBLE   CONFESSION.  83 

And  that  night,  too,  he  knew  that  the  sacrifice 
demanded  for  her  fidelity  was  that  he  would  award 
to  her  a  husband's  fealty  and  love. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  TERRIBLE   CONFESSION. 

"AT  last!" 

The  words  were  uttered  in  a  tone  of  rapt  triumph 
and  passionate  delight  by  Blanche  Vansant,  and  her 
dusky  face  glowed  with  a  deepened  color,  and  her 
eyes  gleamed  like  two  radiant  stars  of  light. 

With  parted  lips  and  heaving  bosom  she  stood 
before  a  mirror,  arranging  the  long  dark  hair  that 
was  a  crown  of  raven  beauty  to  her  fascinating  face. 

Her  words  announced  the  fruition  of  all  her 
fondest  hopes  and  best-laid  schemes.  Intrigue 
had  triumphed;  long,  patient  plodding  had  made 
her  victor,  and  one  month  after  the  day  she  had 
enabled  Ansel  Grey  to  stave  off  ruin  with  the 
money  she  had  received  from  Bryce  Williard,  she 
stood  on  the  threshold  of  bridal  bliss. 

How  had  it  all  come  about?  It  seemed  a  dream 
—  the  transition  from  despair  to  hope,  the  gaining 
of  Percy  Grey's  assent  to  an  early  marriage,  the 
seeming  success  of  the  compact  she  had  formed 
with  his  uncle. 

When  the  latter  had  told  Percy  of  his  financial 
peril  —  when  he  had  hinted  darkly  at  a  disgrace 
Blanche  Vansant  had  warded  off — first;  gratitude 
and  then  esteem  made  him  regard  the  beautiful 
siren  as  a  devoted  friend. 

The  first  hint  at  marriage  on  his  uncle's  part 
amazed  him.  With  stern,  sad  face  he  bade  Ansel 
Grey  never  to  refer  to  it  again.  His  heart  was 


84  A  TERRIBLE  CONFESSION. 

dead,   and  he   could   not  love ;  he   would   never 
marry. 

All  this  he  affirmed  determinedly,  little  dreaming 
of  the  plots  and  wiles  thickly  hedging  his  path. 
Day  by  day  the  reproachful  pleadings  of  his  uncle 
assailed  him,  while  the  sad,  pale  face  of  the  plotting 
Blanche  deceived  him,  and  awakened  a  manly  pity. 

He  weakened  at  last,  as  it  was  meant  that  he 
should  from  the  first.  He  offered  Blanche  Vansant 
his  name  in  marriage,  because  she  had  won  the 
gratitude  of  the  family;  because,  his  own  life  seem- 
ingly purposeless,  he  was  prevailed  upon  to  believe 
that  he  could  brighten  hers,  and  cheer  the  declining 
years  of  an  uncle  who  had  always  been  kind  to 
him. 

"  You  are  forcing  me  to  an  alliance,  against  which 
my  manhood  revolts,"  he  had  said  to  his  uncle.  "  It 
is  like  selling  myself  to  a  woman,  for  whom  I  can 
never  entertain  the  slightest  love;"  but  old  Ansel 
Grey  was  not  to  be  turned  from  his  purpose,  and, 
with  a  thought  that  duty  impelled  the  sacrifice,  that 
life  could  be  no  drearier  than  it  was  with  Myrtle 
gone,  Percy  Grey  agreed  to  the  marriage. 

It  was  to  be  a  private  affair,  witnessed  only  by 
two  friends.  They  were  to  leave  for  the  South  on 
the  midnight  train.  Beyond  that,  Ansel  Grey  had 
not  imparted  his  plans  to  his  nephew,  although  he 
had  arranged  to  remain  permanently  away  from  the 
city,  and  had  bulked  his  fortune  into  ready  money. 

A  shuddering  sense  of  self-reproach  overcame 
Percy  Grey,  and  he  recoiled  mentally  from  the 
mockery  of  the  marriage  ceremony;  but  it  was  over 
at  last,  and  the  words  were  spoken  that  made 
Blanche  Vansant  his  wife. 

There  was  no  responsive  joy  in  his  smileless  face 
as  she  clung  passionately  to  his  arm.  His  thoughts 
were  far  away,  and  when  they  were  alone,  and  she 
began  arranging  her  jewelry  ready  for  the  journey, 


A  TERRIBLE   CONFESSION.  8$ 

he  sank  into  a  chair,  his  head  bowed  in  dreaming, 
bitter  thoughts. 

She  had  ordered  a  servant  to  come  for  her  trunks, 
and,  waiting  for  the  order  to  be  fulfilled,  she  stole 
to  a  stool  at  his  side,  her  graceful,  taper  fingers 
lightly  sweeping  the  strings  of  a  guitar,  as  if  seek- 
ing to  woo  the  strangely  silent  husband  of  an  hour 
from  his  moody  thoughts. 

How  little  he  knew  the  true  depths  of  her  wily 
nature,  how  feebly  he  comprehended  her  powers  of 
dissimulation !  As  he  remembered  all  his  uncle  had 
told  him,  and  sincerely  believed  that  the  woman 
loved  him,  Percy  Grey's  hand  rested  tenderly, 
almost  caressingly,  on  her  head,  as  a  great  wave  of 
pity  swept  his  noble  heartland  then  he  started  vio- 
lently. 

She  had  traced  heretofore  a  studied  reserve  in 
his  actions,  a  mute  tolerance  in  his  treatment  of 
her,  and  had  grown  restive  under  it;  but  now  a 
wild  alarm  flashed  forth,  as  he  sprang  to  his  feet, 
and,  with  distended  eyes  and  pale  face,  stood  star- 
ing blankly  at  an  article  lying  on  the  stand  he  had 
not  noticed  before. 

It  was  a  bracelet,  singularly  formed,  and  peculiar 
in  its  setting  and  material. 

Its  sight,  at  first  startling  him  strangely,  suddenly 
seemed  to  revive  some  bewildered  memory,  for 
a  slight  spasm  of  pain  crossed  his  face,  and  his  eyes 
closed  convulsively. 

In  a  hushy,  tremulous  tone,  he  demanded  of  his 
dumbfounded  companion: 

"  That  bracelet?  —  where  did  it  come  from?  —  it 
is  yours?  " 

Over  the  dusky  face  of  the  enchantress  came  a 
pallor,  quick  and  changing.  Her  mind  going  back 
to  the  night  when  Myrtle  Blake  disappeared  be- 
neath the  waters  of  the  river,  she  replied,  in  a  faint, 
frightened  tone  of  voice: 


86  A  TERRIBLE   CONFESSION. 

"Yes,  it  is  mine." 

The  man's  eyes  were  fixed  eagerly,  searchingly 
upon  her  face. 

"And  its  mate?" 

"Is  lost." 

"Wait!" 

His  voice  had  grown  cold  and  stern.  He  walked 
rapidly  from  the  apartment  to  his  own.  Blanche 
Vansant  heard  his  returning  footsteps,  echoing  on 
her  hearing  like  foot-falls  of  doom. 

She  sank  to  a  chair,  with  a  gasping  cry  of  terror. 
She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  crouched 
back  with  blanched  face  and  terror-stricken  mien. 

"  The  other  bracelet!  "  she  gasped  forth.  "  I 
lost  it  that  night  at  the  river.  Can  he  have  found 
it?" 

At  that  moment  Percy  Grey  entered  the  room. 
In  his  hand  he  bore  a  bracelet,  the  very  counter- 
part of  the  one  he  had  accidentally  seen  a  few  mo- 
ments previous. 

In  his  white  face  was  a  horrible  suspicion, 
half-expressed;  in  all  his  actions,  the  bearing  of  a 
stern,  unrelenting  judge  calling  a  criminal  to  ac- 
count. 

"  The  same  —  they  are  the  same!  "  the  terrified 
woman  heard  him  murmur.  "  Blanche,  you  say 
this  bracelet  is  yours.  Then  its  mate  is  yours,  too. 
I  found  it  at  a  spot  where  accident  or  design  sent 
to  her  death  the  only  woman  I  ever  loved." 

The  words  aroused  all  the  fear  and,  too,  all  the 
jealousy  of  the  siren's  heart. 

"  When  I  was  struck  down  by  an  unseen  enemy, 
and  Myrtle  Blake  perished  before  my  eyes,  that 
bracelet  I  found.  I  cherished  it,  believing  it  to  be 
hers.  Speak!  If  it  is  yours,  how  came  it  there? 
Woman,  woman!  you  cannot  deceive  me.  I  read 
it  in  your  eyes  —  you  know  of  that  tragedy  — 
you  were  there!  " 


A  TERRIBLE   CONFESSION.  8/ 

He  had  seized  her  hands,  and  his  eyes  burned 
down  into  her  own.  In  that  moment  of  supreme 
emotion  Blanche  Vansant  forgot  herself.  Diplo- 
macy and  intrigue  were  lost  amid  jealousy  of  this 
man's  undying  love  for  the  woman  she  _iated. 

"  I  was  there  —  yes,  I  saw  her  die.  I  gloated  in 
her  death,  for,  Percy  Grey,  I  loved  you  better  than 
she!" 

Her  voice  was  sharp  and  exited,  her  bosom  heav- 
ing with  passionate  emotion. 

"  For  you  my  hand  sent  her  adrift;  for  love  of 
you  I  glided  into  crime.  Mercy!  mercy!  oh,  my 
husband!  Bestow  upon  me  one  smile  of  affection, 
for  I  have  sacrificed  for  you  my  very  soul." 

The  truth  was  out  at  last  —  the  truth  which  drove 
Percy  Grey  back  appalled  —  which  transfixed  him 
with  mute  horror  as  the  excited  woman  poured 
forth  incoherently,  passionately,  the  whole  fateful 
story  of  her  plotting  for  his  love. 

She  never  doubted  but  that  its  sacrifices  would 
appeal  to  him.  She  believed  that,  as  she  told  how 
she  and  Ansel  Grey  had  sought  to  secure  his  hap- 
piness, he  would  relent  toward  her,  and  she  hinted 
darkly  at  the  secret  which  menaced  the  personal 
safety  and  good  name  of  his  uncle. 

"  For  love  of  you  I  did  all.  Oh!  my  Percy,  pity 
and  love  the  woman  who  would  give  her  life  for  one 
word  of  affection!  " 

She  paused  abruptly.  Percy  Grey  had  started 
back  with  a  cry  that  drove  the  woman  at  his  feet 
from  a  kneeling  supplicant  to  a  stricken,  horrified 
thing  of  guilt. 

"  You  killed  her!  "  he  uttered  in  awful  tones  of 
condemnation  and  anguish.  "  Back!  or  my  brain 
will  go  mad.  Woman!  fiend!  the  sainted  creature 
your  hands  have  sent  to  her  fate  was  —  my  wife!  " 


88  FROM  THE    DEAD. 

CHAPTER  XI. 

FROM   THE   DEAD. 

HIS  wife! 

With  a  cry  of  amazement  and  terror,  the  guilty 
Blanche  Vansant  sank  to  a  chair,  transfixed  and 
overwhelmed. 

One  look  only,  of  awful  condemnation  and  hor- 
ror, Percy  Grey  cast  upon  her.  Then,  his  hands 
clinched  in  agony,  he  dashed  from  the  apartment 
and  down  the  stairs  like  one  demented. 

"  I  have  lost  him  —  lost  him  in  the  hour  of  tri- 
umph. Oh,  fool  that  I  was,  to  confess  the  crime  I 
might  have  concealed!  "  burst  from  the  siren's  lips. 
"  He  shall  not  leave  me  —  I  cannot  lose  him!  " 

And  she  sprang  to  her  feet  wildly,  enveloped 
herself  in  a  cloak,  and  —  the  old,  determined  plot- 
ter—  stole  noiselessly  down  the  stairs  after  her 
husband. 

She  paused,  and  drew  back  into  a  sheltered 
alcove  as  she  reached  the  vicinity  of  the  library. 

From  within  sounded  the  voices  of  two  men,  the 
one  wildly  passionate  and  bitterly  reproachful,  the 
other  gasping  and  pitiful. 

With  bated  breath  she  heard  Percy  Grey  accuse 
his  uncle  of  plotting  against  his  happiness,  and  her 
heart  grew  hard  as  he  spoke  of  her  with  all  the 
aroused  horror  of  his  soul. 

Then  he  dashed  from  the  room,  while  the  voice 
of  Ansel  Grey  called  to  him  in  agonized  accents  to 
return,  while  his  thin  hands  were  clasped  toward 
him  in  piteous  entreaty  to  spare  him  —  not  to  leave 
him  broken-hearted  amid  his  sorrow  and  sin. 

"  You  have  blighted  my  life;  your  evil  accom- 
plice, the  woman  I  loathe  and  hate,  has  robbed  me 
of  my  darling  bride.  May  heaven's  justice  come 


FROM  THE    DEAD.  89 

to  you  both  for  your  awful  crime!  "  were  Percy 
Grey's  parting  words. 

The  night  breeze  brought  no  cooling  influence  to 
his  fevered  brain.  His  brain  on  fire,  he  dashed 
from  the  house  distracted  with  agony  and  grief. 

He  was  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  Blanche 
Vansant  had  glided  after  him,  and  that  a  third  per- 
son, a  man  closely  muffled,  had  stolen  from  the 
shadow  of  the  mansion,  taking  up'the  trail  of  both. 

To  what  were  the  fateful  events  of  that  night 
tending?  Not  one  of  the  actors  in  the  tragedy 
under  play  realized  the  culmination  soon  to  occur. 

A  shudder  passed  over  the  frame  of  Blanche 
Vansant,  as  at  last  Percy  Grey's  wild  flight  was 
stopped.  At  the  verge  of  a  beautiful  public  park, 
where  a  cemetery  began,  he  had  threaded  a  se- 
cluded path. 

In  the  white  moonlight,  above  a  little  mound, 
was  plainly  revealed  a  marble  slab  bearing  a  single 
name  —  Cinderella. 

He  staggered  forward,  as  if  he  would  cast  him- 
self upon  the  grave  before  him,  and  die  amid  the 
bitter  memories  of  the  hour. 

Then  a  strange  thing  occurred.  The  bewildered 
Blanche  Vansant  drew  back,  appalled,  amazed,  sick 
at  heart. 

With  one  wild  cry  of  delight,  Percy  Grey  sprang 
forward,  his  arm  outstretched,  his  eyes  agleam 
with  hope  and  joy. 

For  the  moonlight  framed  a  dim  figure  beyond 
the  mound,  which,  assuming  form  and  substance, 
showed  the  sad,  sweet  face  of  the  bride  he  mourned 
as  lost. 

Over  the  dead  the  living.  It  was  she;  no  phan- 
tom, no  delusion  of  his  favored  fancy. 

Thus  they  had  met  again,  at  the  portals  of  the 
grave. 

It  was  Cinderella! 


90  IN  THE  WHITE  MOONLIGHT. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

IN  THE  WHITE  MOONLIGHT. 

ONE  wild,  surging  cry  of  bliss  ineffable  welled  to 
the  lips  of  Percy  Grey,  and  then,  blinded  to  all  in 
the  dark  background  of  that  radiant  picture,  he 
sprang  toward  the  beautiful  presence  before  him. 

Wraith  or  human,  its  white  face  turned  toward 
his  own,  its  hands  seemed  extended  to  meet  his, 
its  murmuring  tones,  choked  with  emotion,  seemed 
to  breathe  a  fond  delight. 

The  torn,  distracted  heart  of  the  dumbfounded 
siren  gave  one  wild  thrill  of  superstitious  alarm, 
and  then  became  steeled  to  the  realities  of  the 
moment. 

"She  lives,  oh!  Heavens!  —  and  he  loves  her 
still!  "  came  in  a  gasping  breath  from  Blanche 
Vansant's  trembling  lips. 

A  blood-red  mist  seemed  to  obscure  her  vision; 
a  quickened  memory  of  what  she  had  lost  aroused 
all  the  latent  fury  of  that  malignant  nature. 

"  Wedded  and  no  wife!  for  she  steps  between 
us,"  she  hissed,  darkly.  "  I  will  kill  her. " 

Her  jeweled  hand  sought  her  bosom,  and  drew 
thence  a  gem-bedecked  stiletto.  It  glittered 
cruelly  in  the  flashing  moonlight  as,  crouching  like 
an  enraged  tigress,  her  fair  face  distorted  with 
jealous  hatred  and  burning  revenge,  she  seemed 
about  to  spring  upon  her  innocent  prey. 

"Fool!" 

An  unfamiliar  voice  hissed  the  word  into  her  ear, 
a  strong  arm  grasped  her  wrist  in  a  clasp  like  iron. 

It  drew  her  back  within  the  shadow  of  a  clump 
of  lilacs.  Struggling,  resisting,  she  did  not  see  the 
face  of  her  captor. 

"  Unhand  me!     Who  are  you?  " 

"Silence  — look!" 


IN  THE  WHITE  MOONLIGHT.  QI 

The  same  low  but  steady  voice  spoke,  its  pos- 
sessor never  relinquishing  the  hold  of  her  hand. 
From  beneath  the  folds  of  a  long,  enveloping  cloak 
her  companion  extended  a  directing  finger. 

She  followed  its  course,  impelled  by  some  subtle 
power  to  obey  the  stern  mandate  in  silence. 

The  thrilling  tableaux  in  the  white  moonlight 
had  changed.  Above  the  simple  slab  over  the 
green  mound  still  hovered  the  figures  of  man  and 
wife,  and  Blanche  Vansant's  attention  was  again 
riveted  upon  them. 

In  that  trembling  moment  of  recognition  their 
hands  had  not  yet  met,  Face  to  face,  the  man 
eager  and  thrilling  to  wondering  hope,  the  woman 
half  shrinking,  yet  all  aglow  with  tender  love,  a 
new  figure  disturbed  all  the  serenity  of  the  strange 
scene. 

From  some  near  covert  a  form  —  that  of  a  man 
—  had  sprang  suddenly.  With  one  wild,  bitter 
oath  he  glided  between  Percy  Grey  and  the  woman 
he  loved. 

A  ray  of  moonlight  illumined  his  features  as  he 
lifted  his  head.  Blanche  Vansant  recoiled  as 
though  dealt  a  sudden  blow. 

"  Merciful  Heaven!     What  does  this  mean?  " 

Silence!  You  shall  soon  learn,"  came  the 
calm,  cold  reply  at  her  ear.  "  You  know  that 
man?  " 

'  Yes,"  the  pallid  lips  assented. 

"  His  name?" 

"  John  Blake,  the  man  Ansel  Grey  so  deeply 
wronged,  the  father  of  yonder  girl,  and  the  man " 

"  The  man  I  left  for  dead  at  the  lonely  riverside 
hut,"  her  guilty  heart  whispered,  but  her  lips 
failed  for  the  utterance,  as  she  was  overwhelmed  to 
appalled  silence  at  the  fast-occurring  episodes  of  the 
fateful  night. 

"  Back!  hated  member  of  a  race  I  have  sworn  to 


92  IN  THE  WHITE  MOONLIGHT. 

pursue  to  the  grave,  kin  of  the  man  who  has  made 
my  life  a  living  hell  —  back  from  the  child  whom  I 
would  rather  see  dead  than  clasp  hands  with  the 
nephew  of  Ansel  Grey." 

The  words  fell  in  an  awful  tone  of  menace  from 
the  lips  of  the  new-comer.  He  had  grasped  his 
daughter's  arm  fiercely.  He  drew  her  from  the 
grave  roughly,  as  she  extended  her  hands  piteously 
toward  Percy  Grey. 

"  Mercy,  oh,  my  father!  It  is  he,  my  Percy,  my 
husband!" 

"  A  curse  upon  the  destiny  that  formed  the 
alliance!  Silence!  Obey  me,  or  worse  will  come." 

With  a  low  cry  the  stricken  Cinderella  allowed 
him  to  lead  her  away  from  the  grave.  For  a  single 
moment,  bewildered  at  the  strange  intrusion,  Percy 
Grey  stood  rooted  to  the  spot.  Then  he  sprang 
after  the  retreating  form  of  his  beloved  bride  and 
her  father,  John  Blake. 

He  had  heard  his  wild  words,  but  had  not  com- 
prehended their  true  significance.  He  saw  the 
flashing  eyes  and  menacing  'ace,  but  did  not  heed 
their  import  of  hatred  and  revenge. 

"  Myrtle!  Cinderella!  "  he  grasped  forth;  "  who 
is  this  man?  " 

"  He  is  my  father.  One  word  only;  let  me 
speak  but  one  word  to  him,"  pleaded  Myrtle, 
moaningly. 

"  No!  "  came  the  harsh  reply.  "  Stand  back,  I 
say;  you  shall  never  see  her  face  again!  " 

"  You  shall  not  part  us!"  cried  Percy  Grey,  en- 
deavoring to  pass  the  barrier  of  John  Blake's  strong 
arm. 

A  cry  that  resembled  the  choked  utterances  of  a 
man  driven  to  insane  fury  broke  from  Blake. 

"  Scoundrel!  "  he  raved.  "  I  will  kill  you,  if  you 
cross  my  path  again." 

A   crushing   blow  succeeded   the  words.     That 


IN  THE  WHITE  MOONLIGHT.  93 

blow,  delivered  with  terrific  force  under  the  im- 
pulse of  concentrated  passion,  drove  Percy  Grey 
to  the  ground  like  a  shot. 

Without  so  much  as  a  cry  he  sank  inanimate  over 
the  grave  by  which  he  had  so  often  mourned  the 
bride  he  had  recovered  only  to  lose  again. 

"  You  have  killed  him!  Oh,  my  Percy,  my  dar- 
ling, speak  to  me,  speak  to  me! " 

Myrtle's  voice  was  suddenly  stilled.  Her  father 
had  gathered  her  up  in  his  strong  arms  and  bore 
her  away  from  the  spot  as  she  sank  a  dead  weight 
in  his  embrace. 

As  they  disappeared  down  the  moonlit  path  the 
man  who  had  been  Blanche  Vansant's  companion  re- 
laxed his  hold  of  her  hand  and  hastened  after  father 
and  daughter. 

He  saw  John  Blake  reach  the  highway  without, 
saw  him  lift  his  inanimate  burden  into  a  carriage  in 
waiting  there,  and  then  slowly  retraced  his  way  to 
the  spot  where  he  had  left  Blanche  Vansant. 

Whoever  he  was,  he  seemed  to  have  no  wish  of 
revealing  his  true  identity  for  the  present,  for  he 
kept  his  face  well  concealed  by  the  cloak  and  hat 
he  wore. 

He  found  Blanche  Vansant  standing  over  the  pros- 
trate form  of  Percy  Grey.  Her  face  was  cold  and 
passionless.  She  did  not  even  start  as  he  came  to 
her  side. 

A  slight,  sneering  laugh  broke  from  his  lips  as 
he  muttered: 

"  Jealousy  seems  to  have  killed  love,  and  my  lady 
is  ready  for  any  plot  to  punish  her  rival.  Good!" 
and  then  aloud  he  remarked,  "  He  seems  to  be  in- 
sensible?" 

"Yes." 

The  stranger  bent  over  the  prostrate  form  and 
felt  its  pulse. 

"  Only  the  result  of  a  heavy  blow,"  he  said,  care- 


94  IN  THE   WHITE  MOONLIGHT. 

lessly,  arising  to  his  feet,  "  and  now,  madam,  you 
and  I  have  time  for  a  little  conversation." 

Blanche  Vansant  regarded  him  coldly.  Evidently 
she  had  steeled  herself  to  act  her  most  proficient 
role  of  queenly  dignity  and  reserve. 

"  Why  should  we  converse  together?  "  she  de- 
manded. 

"  First,  because  I  will  it." 

"You?" 

"Yes." 

"  And  who  are  you?  " 

"  That  you  shall  learn  in  time,  but  this  much  you 
may  know,  that  I  am  a  very  important  element  in 
your  plans  just  now.  Ah!  you  start.  Nevermind, 
we  will  soon  come  to  an  understanding.  You  are 
probably  mystified  at  my  interest  in  your  affairs." 

"No." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because,  after  seeing  two  people  I  believed 
dead  return  to  life,  I  am  prepared  for  anything." 

"  You  are  philosophical.  Can  you  as  readily 
accept  the  results  of  to-night's  disclosures?  " 

"  In  what  way?  " 

"  You  are  not  Percy  Grey's  wife.  The  ceremony 
is  invalid,  for  his  first  wife  still  lives." 

Blanche  Vansant  started  as  though  stung  by  a 
serpent. 

"  His  real  wife  is  Myrtle  Blake,  and  she  is  alive. 
Before  Percy  Grey  recovers,  answer  me  one  ques- 
tion." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  If  I  can  show  you  a  way  to  more  effectually 
separate  Percy  Grey  and  his  wife  than  the  hatred 
of  John  Blake  can  ever  do;  if  I  can  show  you  away 
to  gain  a  vast  fortune  by  joining  me  in  my  plans, 
what  would  you  say?" 

"  You  cannot  do  it." 

"  If  I  prove  to  you  that  I  can,  but  that  it  is  neces- 


THE   STRICKEN   HEART.  95 

sary  that  Percy  Grey  should  disappear  from  the 
sight  of  man  to  effect  it,  what  then!  " 

The  dark  siren  did  not  speak. 

"  Remember,"  whispered  the  tempter,  pressing 
close  to  her  side,  "  if  you  refuse,  this  man  will  never 
be  aught  to  you,  and  he  will  certainly  again  find 
his  wife,  despite  her  mad  father.  Come,  your  an- 
swer? Give  up  Percy  Grey  forever,  aid  me  in  my 
plans,  and  Myrtle  Blake  shall  never  see  him  again, 
but  you  shall  share  a  million  with  me." 

"  I  agree." 

The  stranger  extended  his  hand,  a  demoniac 
smile  on  his  lips  just  visible. 

"Return  to  the  Grey  mansion,"  he  said,  as  he 
pressed  her  trembling  hand  in  token  of  the  new 
compact.  "  You  shall  hear  from  me  within  an 
hour." 

"And  Percy  Grey?" 

"  Take  your  last  look  at  him,  for  his  presence  is 
fatal  to  our  plots.  Before  another  dawn  Percy 
Grey  will  have  disappeared  from  the  sight  of  man 
as  effectually  as  though  the  earth  had  swallowed 
him  up,"  replied  the  stranger,  impressively. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  STRICKEN   HEART. 

PITEOUS  and  pleading  sounded  the  meaning 
tones  of  Myrtle  Blake's  voice;  harsh  and  relent- 
less was  her  father's  response  as,  an  hour  after 
the  scene  at  the  grave,  she  recovered  conscious- 
ness. 

He  had  driven  her  to  the  home  they  had  known 
together  for  nearly  a  month  —  a  pleasant  cottage 
in  the  suburbs  of  the  city  —  and  had  placed  her 


96  THE   STRICKEN   HEART. 

upon  a  sofa,  with  brooding  mind  and  anxious 
glance  watching  her  slow  recovery  of  sensibility. 

Not  a  muscle  of  his  white,  care-worn  face  moved 
as  she  burst  into  a  torrent  of  tears.  He  waited, 
like  some  marble  nemesis,  until  the  storm  of  sobs 
and  reproaches  had  subsided.  Then  he  drew  a 
chair  opposite  to  his  own,  and  pointed  to  it. 

"  Sit  down,"  he  said.  "  I  have  something  im- 
portant to  say  to  you." 

She  obeyed  him  with  drooping  eyelids  and  a  tear- 
stained  face.  A  cold  despair  had  chased  all  the 
color  from  her  features,  and  she  listened  like  one 
in  a  dream  as  he  spoke. 

"  When,  for  the  first  time  in  long,  dreary  years, 
I  found  you  a  few  weeks  agone  at  a  lonely  house 
near  the  river,  whose  owner,  a  simple  but  kind- 
hearted  man,  had  rescued  you  from  the  river  one 
dark  night,  I  told  you  the  story  of  my  life." 

Myrtle  bowed  her  head  still  lower,  recalling  the 
events  of  the  night  when  Blanche  Vansant  sent  her 
adrift,  and  Percy  Grey  believed  her  to  be  drowned. 

"  It  is  marvelous  that  you  should  be  rescued,  for 
the  boat  in  which  you  were  adrift  was  run  down 
by  a  larger  craft,"  continued  John  Blake.  "  Still 
more  wonderful  was  my  recovery,  when  I  lay  at 
the  very  verge  of  death.  In  that  hour  some  woman 
came  to  me  and  pretended  to  be  yourself.  I 
trusted  her  with  my  papers.  She  was  sent  by  the 
Greys  —  I  know  it. " 

"  No,  no,  father;  or,  if  even  so,  my  husband  was 
no  party  to  the  plot." 

"  They  are  all  alike,  all  leagued  together  to  crush 
me  and  mine  and  protect  themselves,"  retorted 
Blake,  fiercely.  "  I  recovered  and  found  you;  I 
told  you  how  Ansel  Grey  had  robbed  me  and  sent 
me  to  prison  on  a  false  charge;  I  made  you  prom- 
ise never,  while  I  lived,  to  seek  Percy  Grey  again, 
until  I  had  learned  how  deep  were  the  plots  of  old 


THE  STRICKEN  HEART.  97 

Ansel  Grey.  I  told  you  that  if  you  went  back  to 
him  again  I  would  return  to  prison  and  voluntarily 
bear  the  shame  Ansel  Grey  placed  on  my  name." 

"  Spare  me,  spare  me,  father!  "  pleaded  Myrtle, 
brokenly. 

"  What  I  said  then,  I  say  now,"  pursued  Blake. 
"  I  swear  to  make  Ansel  Grey  suffer  hour  by  hour 
what  he  has  made  me  suffer,  to  bring  on  all  his  evil 
brood  the  shame  and  sorrow  I  have  known.  Put 
Percy  Grey  from  your  thoughts.  You  shall  never 
see  him  again.  You  wandered  to  the  grave  to- 
night and  met  him.  Meet  him  again,  let  one  of 
that  accursed  race  again  cross  my  path,  and  be- 
ware! for  I  will  kill  them!  " 

John  Blake  was  wildly  excited.  Myrtle  drooped 
like  a  blighted  rose  under  his  terrible  hatred  for 
the  family  which  had  so  wronged  him,  but  did  not 
dare  to  reply  to  him. 

To  her  young  heart  every  succeeding  step  in  the 
strange  destiny  of  her  life  had  brought  a  new 
sorrow. 

Her  father  believed  the  imposture  of  Blanche 
Vansant,  Myrtle's  marriage  to  Percy  Grey,  all  the 
incidents  following  the  death  of  her  mother,  to  be 
part  of  a  systematic  plot  against  them. 

It  was  the  afternoon  after  the  scene  at  the  ceme- 
tery that  John  Blake  came  home,  his  bearing  more 
austere  than  ever,  his  face  set  in  a  stern  mask  of 
expression. 

Myrtle  had  become  used  to  obey  him,  and  to 
follow  his  mandates  unquestioningly.  When  he 
told  her  to  prepare  for  a  long  journey,  she  started 
and  paled,  and  seemed  about  to  address  him. 

One  glance  at  the  relentless  face  dissuaded  her 
from  her  purpose,  however,  and  even  when,  that 
evening,  a  carriage  conveyed  them  to  a  railroad 
depot,  she  did  not  question  him. 

"  It  is  useless,"  she  murmured  to  herself.     "  He 

Desperate  7. 


98  THE   STRICKEN   HEART. 

is  insane  in  his  thirst  for  revenge,  but  he  is  my 
father.  Oh,  Percy,  Percy,  will  the  same  fate  over- 
take the  innocent  which  threatens  the  guilty?  Will 
time  bring  us  together  again,  or  will  my  father's 
wrongs  demand  even  the  sacrifice  of  our  happi- 
ness? " 

One  hour  after  the  train  started,  in  the  state- 
room compartment  he  had  secured  for  her,  John 
Blake  unfolded  his  plans. 

"  I  sought  my  vengeance  and  restitution  last 
night,"  he  said.  "  I  confronted  the  man  who 
wronged  me.  I  took  what  was  my  own,  what  of 
his  evilly-hoarded  wealth  he  had  in  sight.  Then  I 
gave  him  until  this  morning  to  return  dollar  for 
dollar  the  wealth  he  robbed  me  of." 

A  frightened  look  came  into  Myrtle's  timid  eyes, 
as  her  father's  face  glowed  with  the  triumph  of  his 
revenge. 

"  He  prayed,  he  cursed,  he  promised  and  threat- 
ened; I  was  deaf  to  every  entreaty.  I  showed  him 
the  jail  that  yawned  for  him  for  the  crime  for  which 
he  had  made  me  suffer.  Then  I  left  him,  bidding 
him  prepare  for  the  morning,  when  all  the  city 
should  know  of  Ansel  Grey's  shame." 

"  Father,  father,  you  are  pitiless!  "  moaned  Myr- 
tle. "  The  blow  that  falls  on  him  will  crush  the 
loyal  heart  that  loves  me." 

"  You  mean  Percy  Grey.  Let  it.  It  is  my  de- 
sign. All  Ansel  Grey's  evil  brood  deserve  to  suffer. 
They  broke  your  mother's  heart;  they  drove  me  to 
jail  and  you  to  poverty.  But  Ansel  Grey  has 
escaped  me.  He  left  the  city  this  morning,  and  I 
am  now  on  his  track.  I  will  not  rest  day  or  night 
until  I  again  stand  face  to  face  with  the  man  who 
has  so  cruelly  wronged  me  and  mine." 

He  lapsed  into  a  brief  silence,  but  aroused  from 
his  reverie  finally,  a  singular  expression  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  would  spare  you  what  I  have  to  tell  you,  but 


THE  STRICKEN  HEART.  99 

that  I  see  your  heart  goes  back  to  the  unworthy 
object  of  your  love,  Percy  Grey." 

"  He  is  not  unworthy. " 

"  I  shall  prove  him  so,  Myrtle.  He  has  deceived 
you.  He,  I  believe,  instigated  your  death  by 
drowning;  he  sent  the  impostor  to  secure  the  papers 
from  me." 

"No,  no!" 

"  It  is  true.  If  I  so  prove  it;  if  I  further  prove 
that  he  has  disregarded  his  marriage  vows  to  you 
—  has  added  still  deeper  wrong  to  the  long  list  his 
family  has  inflicted  upon  us  —  would  you  join  me 
in  punishing  them?  Would  you  say  that  our 
vengeance  was  just?" 

Myrtle  Blake  clasped  her  hands  wildly,  and  turned 
white  as  marble. 

"  It  cannot  be!"  she  gasped.  "  Percy  Grey  is  all 
that  is  noble  and  true." 

"Then  read." 

From  his  pocket  John  Blake  had  drawn  a  daily 
paper,  and,  handing  it  to  his  daughter,  pointed  to 
two  items  on  its  second  page. 

She  perused  the  first  one  with  startled  eyes  and 
gasping  breath. 

It  read: 

"  GREY-VANSANT. —  Married,  at  the  residence  of 
Ansel  Grey,  Esq.,  by  the  Rev.  Alanson  Dorr, 
Percy  Grey  to  Miss  Blanche  Vansant." 

Her  heart  stood  still  as  her  eyes  rested  on  the 
second  item  John  Blake  had  indicated. 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Percy  Grey,"  it  ran,  "  left  the  city 
to-day  on  a  wedding  tour  through  the  Southern 
States." 

A  film  gathered  over  her  eyes;  a  dull,  vague  pain 
shot  through  her  throbbing  temples.  She  wavered 
unsteadily. 

Amid  her  misery  she  noted  not  her  father's 
words,  breathed  fiercely  into  her  ear: 


IOO  THE  PLOTTERS. 

"  Revenge,  my  child;  we  will  live  for  it,  we  will 
die  for  it.  Great  heavens!  what  is  this?  " 

Crash ! 

His  words  were  interrupted  suddenly.  The  car 
swayed  to  one  side,  stopped,  fell  sideways,  and 
crashed  downwards. 

Amid  a  grinding,  crashing  sound,  and  the  shrieks 
of  the  affrighted  passengers,  a  sudden  pandemonium 
ensued. 

Then,  as  the  splintered  timbers  drove  the  occu- 
pants of  the  coach  to  pain,  and  terror,  and  death, 
only  the  horrible  hissing  of  steam  at  the  bottom  of 
a  dark  abyss  told  that  the  night  express  had  gone 
sheer  eighty  feet  down  an  open  draw. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE    PLOTTERS. 

EXACTLY  one  hour  after  the  meeting  over  the  in- 
sensible form  of  Percy  Grey,  struck  down  by  the 
infuriated  John  Blake,  the  stranger  who  had  prom- 
ised to  see  Blanche  Vansant  was  at  the  Grey  man- 
sion. 

Percy  Grey  was  not  with  him,  however,  and  he 
did  not  seek  the  siren.  He  had  boldly  rang  at  the 
door-bell,  and,  late  as  the  hour  was,  demanded  to 
see  Ansel  Grey. 

Ushered  into  the  library,  he  found  the  object  of 
his  visit  seated  at  his  desk,  engaged  in  looking  over 
some  papers,  a  careworn  expression  on  his  aged 
face. 

It  is  not  necessary  that  the  interview  between  the 
two  men  should  be  told  in  detail.  Ansel  Grey 
paled  as  he  recognized  the  intruder. 

"  You!  "  he  ejaculated.     "  Earle  Townsend!  " 


«  THE  PLOTTERS.  IOI 

"  Your  scapegrace  nephew,  exactly,"  responded 
the  other,  coolly  appropriating  a  chair.  "  No  re- 
proaches, my  honorable  uncle;  I  have  not  come  for 
money  this  time." 

"  Your  robbery  nearly  ruinedme,"  groaned  Grey. 

"  People  with  dangerous  secrets  must  pay  to  have 
them  kept,"  replied  Townsend,  lightly;  "  I  came  to 
benefit  you.  John  Blake  is  alive  and  at  liberty." 

Ansel  Grey's  face  grew  ashen. 

"  Impossible!  "  he  gasped  out. 

"  It  is  true.  Uncle,  you  stand  over  a  mine. 
If  you  are  wise,  you  had  better  not  meet  that 
man." 

In  a  few  words  Earle  Townsend  indicated  that 
he  knew  all  of  his  uncle's  wrong  against  Blake. 
For  over  an  hour  the  two  talked  together,  and 
Ansel  Grey,  amid  his  anxiety,  seemed  glad  to  gain 
as  an  ally  the  man  who  robbed  him. 

They  had  agreed  to  form  some  plan  in  the  morn- 
ing to  outwit  Blake,  even  if  it  became  necessary  to 
remove  him  from  their  path  effectually;  but  that 
very  night,  as  the  reader  already  knows,  John 
Blake  visited  the  mansion. 

When  the  morning  came,  Ansel  Grey  had  fled. 
It  suited  Earle  Townsend's  plans  that  this  should 
occur.  He  had  remained  at  the  mansion  all  night, 
and,  descending  to  the  library,  was  the  first  to  dis- 
cover a  letter  in  Ansel  Grey's  handwriting,  and 
directed  to  Percy  Grey. 

It  informed  the  nephew  of  all  the  truth. 
"  Financially  ruined,  the  menace  of  a  dark  secret 
hanging  over  my  life,  I  am  forced  to  fly,"  it  said. 
"  With  the  exception  of  the  money  in  my  private 
desk,  I  have  taken  all.  It  is  not  much,  and  even 
the  mansion  is  sold.  Forgive  me  if  I  have  brought 
you  poverty  instead  of  wealth.  I  struggled  for  the 
latter,  and  failed." 

Earle  Townsend  secured  the  money  spoken  of  in 


102  THE  PLOTTERS. 

the  letter.  Then  he  wandered  into  the  drawing- 
rooms. 

"  All  works  well,"  he  muttered  complacently. 
"  Ha!  here  is  the  Vansant  woman.  Will  she  fail 
me?" 

Blanche  Vansant  entered  the  room  hurriedly. 

"  Percy!  "  she  cried,  in  amazement,  as.Townsend 
turned,  and  then  she  stood  transfixed. 

Fair  in  form  and  feature,  so  remarkable  was  the 
resemblance  of  Earle  Townsend  to  Percy  Grey  that 
the  appearance  of  this  man  was  bewildering  to  her 
senses. 

"  Not  Percy!  "  she  murmured,  gaspingly. 

"  No;  but  your  friend  of  last  night.  Miss  Van- 
sant, we  understood  each  other  then;  let  us  make 
no  mistake  now." 

"And  he  — Percy?" 

"  I  have  placed  where  he  will  not  trouble  us  again. 
Think  not  of  the  past.  It  is  the  present  and  the 
future  that  materially  concerns  us.  Ansel  Grey 
has  fled  the  city." 

In  brief  language  he  related  what  he  knew  of  that 
flight. 

"  And  now?  "  inquired  the  siren. 

"  Now  we  must  act.  Within  an  hour  you  and  I 
carry  out  last  night's  arrangement." 

"You  mean!" 

"  That  we  leave  the  house,  just  as  Percy  Grey  and 
you  were  intending  to  do  on  your  wedding  trip.  It 
is  necessary  to  my  plans  that  the  impression  prevails 
that  you  and  he  left  the  city  this  morning." 

"  And  when  we  have  done  so?  " 

"  We  remain  away  for  some  months,  and  let  the 
story  of  Ansel  Grey's  disappearance  die  out.  He 
will  never  return.  We  will  never  come  back  to  his 
broken  fortunes,  either." 

"  What,  then,  is  the  use  of  all  this  plotting?  " 
inquired  the  mystified  Blanche, 


ALONE   IN   THE   WORLD.  10$ 

"Look  well  at  me." 

"  I  am  doing  so." 

"  Do  I  resemble  Percy  Grey?  " 

"  Yes  —  like  as  a  brother." 

"  And  to  people  who  had  not  seen  him  for  years, 
might  pass  for  him?  " 

"Yes,  yes." 

"  Very  well.     I  intend  to  tell  you  a  secret." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Percy  Grey's  uncle,  in  another  city,  Samuel 
Townsend,  died  two  days  since." 

"Well?" 

"  He  left  a  fortune  amounting  to  over  a  million  of 
dollars  in  money." 

"  I  begin  to  understand,"  murmured  the  siren, 
tumultuously. 

"  And  the  sole  heir  to  that  princely  estate,"  con- 
cluded Townsend,  deliberately,  "  is  Percy  Grey!  " 


CHAPTER  XV. 

ALONE  IN  THE  WORLD. 

ONE  dark,  cheerless  night,  exactly  one  year  after 
the  occurrence  of  the  events  which  culminated  in  the 
weird  scene  at  the  river,  in  which  Myrtle  Blake  was 
supposed  to  have  been  drowned,  a  lonely,  friendless 
woman  wandered  the  streets  of  the  great  thriving 
city  of  Cincinnati,  hopeless,  despairing,  almost 
heart-broken. 

Dusk,  coming  down  in  somber  mantle  of  gray, 
had  witnessed  ineffectual,  though  continued  efforts 
on  her  part  to  secure  work  at  this  and  that  great 
factory  and  store.  The  dashing  lights  of  the  glow- 
ing night  only  increased  the  mockery  of  warmth  and 
cheerfulness  as  she  struggled  on,  and,  at  last,  too 


104  ALONE  IN  THE   WORLD. 

weary  to  go  farther,  sank  to  a  bench  for  rest  in  one 
of  the  central  parks  of  the  city. 

Pedestrians  passing  to  and  fro  gazed  curiously  but 
carelessly  at  the  veiled  figure,  graceful  and  youthful 
even  amid  its  pose  of  wearied  exhaustion. 

How  little  they  realized  the  misery  and  grief  that 
dwelt  within  that  forlorn  breast!  —  how  little  they 
dreamed  of  the  tragic  fate  this  lone  creature  had 
known! — how  little  she  herself  knew  of  the  por- 
tentous future  that  very  night's  slow  developments 
were  destined  to  usher  in! 

"Weary!  oh,  so  weary,"  came  in  a  low  moan 
from  behind  the  veil.  "  I  have  wandered  the  streets 
for  hours  seeking  work  and  finding  none.  It  seems 
as  if  every  human  heart  and  home  are  closed  against 
me;  as  if  some  cruel  fate  pursues  me  with  grim 
poverty  and  want,  to  drive  me  to  despair  at  every 
hand." 

She  arose  to  her  feet  as  a  hand  touched  her  roughly 
on  the  shoulder.  Looking  up  she  shuddered  and 
shrank  back  as  she  discerned  that  a  uniformed 
guardian  of  the  law  confronted  her. 

"  You  will  have  to  move  on  here,"  a  gruff  voice 
spoke,  and  a  vision  of  the  horrors  of  police  surveil- 
lance and  confinement  drove  the  woman  to  her 
feet. 

Was  there  rest  for  her  nowhere  —  no  pity  in  the 
human  heart  for  her  utter  friendlessness?  She 
staggered  from  sheer  weakness,  as  she  essayed  to 
leave  the  spot,  and  a  bitter  moan  escaped  her  lips. 

She  started,  and  then  came  to  a  standstill  at  the 
stone  parapet  of  a  great  bridge.  Her  heart  thrilled, 
as  she  looked  far  down  at  the  darkly-gleaming 
waters,  a  mocking  demon  seeming  to  beckon  her 
to  rest  and  respite  from  all  her  earthly  cares, 

"  Not  that!  not  that!  "  she  gasped.  "  Oh, 
Father  in  Heaven,  help  and  guide  me,  in  my  dire 
extremity." 


ALONE   IN   THE   WORLD.  IO$ 

The  prayer,  so  fervent,  so  pitiful,  seemed  to  give 
her  renewed  strength.  At  that  moment  a  fitful 
gust  of  wind,  chill  and  searching  from  the  river, 
blew  aside  her  veil. 

Myrtle  Blake! 

Yes,  the  Cinderella  of  old,  the  convict's  daughter, 
the  dreaded  rival  of  the  dark  siren,  Blanche  Van- 
sant ;  the  beautiful  persecuted  bride  of  Percy  Grey! 

If  those  pallid  lips  could  have  spoken  in  tones  of 
confidence  and  relief  to  some  cherished  friend, 
what  a  story  of  tragic,  plotful  detail  could  they 
have  told! 

For  this  woman,  the  child  of  stormy  destiny, 
a  veritable  football  of  fate,  had  an  experience  so 
strange,  so  appalling,  that  she  herself  scarcely 
realized  its  developments. 

On  the  very  verge  of  a  terrible  manifestation  of 
a  deep  plot,  or  the  utter  faithlessness  of  the  man 
she  loved,  a  catastrophe  had  occurred  which  for 
weeks  deprived  her  of  sensibility  and  thought. 

When  that  awful  crash  on  the  railroad  came,  a 
score  of  suffering  human  beings  were  buried  amid 
the  burning  wreck.  Myrtle  Blake  was  rescued 
and  conveyed  to  a  farm-house  near  at  hand,  where 
she  lay  hovering  between  life  and  death  for  many 
days. 

When  she  had  finally  recovered,  it  was  to 
awaken  to  a  new  grief.  Her  father's  body  had  not 
been  identified,  but  there  seemed  to  be  no  doubt 
but  that  his  was  one  of  the  charred  remains  found 
beneath  the  ashes  of  the  destroyed  coach. 

Through  all  the  gradations  of  intense  sorrow  and 
despair  the  orphaned  Cinderella  passed.  Finally 
she  returned  to  Chicago.  Her  trusting  heart  bade 
her  hope  that  Percy  Grey  had  not  proven  untrue 
to  her,  that  her  father  had  been  deceived.  The 
ban  of  his  revenge  removed  by  death,  she  longed 
to  see  the  man  she  loved  once  again. 


106  ALONE   IN  THE  WORLD. 

If  false — the  bitter  thought  chilled  her  to  the 
heart — then  justice  at  least  demanded  from  his 
family  restitution  for  the  wrong  Ansel  Grey  had 
done  her  father. 

But  she  found  no  trace  of  nephew  or  uncle. 
Ansel  Grey  had  disappeared  ;  Percy  Grey  could  not 
be  traced.  The  old  mansion  was  occupied  by 
strangers,  and  the  servants  of  the  Grey  household 
were  scattered. 

It  was  fate  that  here  her  inquiries  terminated. 
With  means  at  her  command,  she  could  have 
learned  what  time  had  effaced  from  casual  memory 
—  that  Percy  Grey  was  credited  with  having  wed 
and  left  the  city  with  Blanche  Vansant  the  night 
she  had  last  seen  him. 

Their  wedding  had  been  so  hurried  that,  only 
for  the  newspaper  announcement,  the  outside  pub- 
lic knew  nothing  of  the  affair.  Myrtle  did  not 
even  hear  that  marriage  referred  to  by  those  she 
questioned  about  the  Grey  family. 

"  It  was  a  plot,  a  falsehood,"  she  cheated  herself 
into  believing  ;  "  but  where  is  he  —  my  Percy,  my 
husband?" 

A  half-formed  plan  to  pursue  her  inquiries 
farther  was  suddenly  dissipated  by  the  needs  of 
the  hour.  She  was  compelled  to  seek  work,  to 
return  to  the  slavery  and  drudgery  of  poorly- 
compensated  toil,  amid  which  she  sank  into  a 
kind  of  despairing  resignation  to  the  issues  of  fate. 

At  last,  even  the  work  failed.  One  day  she 
imagined  she  was  followed  to  her  lodgings  by  a 
stranger,  and  that  evening  she  thought  she  saw 
him  conversing  near  her  home  with  a  man  re- 
sembling Bryce  Williard.  The  old  terror  of  evil 
plots  and  wicked  schemes  came  over  her,  and  she 
fled  the  city  where  she  had  known  so  much  misery. 

Thus  it  was  that   on   the  dark,  cheerless  night 


ALONE  IN  THE  WORLD.  IO/ 

described,  we  find  her  a  homeless  wanderer  in  the 
streets  of  a  great  city  totally  unfamiliar  to  her. 

She  had  turned  from  the  river  with  a  shudder  of 
horror,  and  the  emotion  awakened  her  to  the 
realities  of  life. 

At  a  lamp-post  she  paused,  and  drew  a  folded 
paper  from  her  pocket. 

"  It  seems  almost  useless  to  seek,"  she  sighed. 
"  I  have  already  gone  to  four  places  where  they 
have  advertised  for  help,  only  to  find  the  positions 
filled,  or  myself  not  qualified  to  undertake  the 
duties  required.  I  will  try  once  more.  If  I  fail,  I 
can  only  find  some  quiet  spot  and  die." 

She  had  not  exaggerated  her  condition  of  utter 
poverty  and  distress,  and  it  was  almost  hopelessly 
that  she  glanced  over  the  "  wants  "  column  of  an 
evening  paper  she  had  secured. 

At  last  she  came  across  an  advertisement  for  a 
housekeeper,  which,  despite  her  youth  and  inex- 
perience, she  believed  she  could  fill  acceptably. 

The  place  of  application  named  was  in  the  resi- 
dence portion  of  the  city.  An  inquiry  from  a  passer- 
by revealed  the  fact  that  it  was  a  long  distance, 
but  she  did  not  falter.  A  forlorn  hope,  she  de- 
termined to  pursue  it  to  the  end. 

Her  head  was  dizzy  and  confused,  her  steps  slow 
and  dragging,  as  at  last  she  reached  the  avenue  in- 
dicated in  the  advertisement. 

It  was  a  thoroughfare  lined  with  beautiful  houses 
and  stately  mansions.  As  she  observed  the  num- 
bers of  the  houses  to  guide  her  to  her  destination, 
the  cozy  warmth  and  elegance  presented  to  her  eye 
only  made  her  own  condition,  by  contrast,  more 
miserable. 

At  last  she  paused  before  a  great  frowning  brown- 
stone  structure,  more  magnificent,  if  possible,  than 
any  one  she  had  yet  passed. 

"  This  is  the  house,"  she  murmured,  as  she  glanced 


IO8  ALONE  IN   THE   WORLD. 

up  the  carved  steps,  and  at  the  number  on  the  outer 
door. 

She  hesitated  with  a  sinking  emotion  at  heart, 
and  glanced  at  her  thin,  bedraggled  dress,  and  real- 
ized how  pale  and  woe-begone  must  be  her  face. 

What  chance  for  employment  had  she  in  that 
elegant  palace,  shabbily  attired  and  unrecommend- 
ed? 

"  I  will  try,  at  least,"  she  breathed  intensely. 
"  The  splendor  repels  me.  I  may  fail,  but  here  the 
hopes  and  struggle  of  the  night  must  end." 

She  ascended  the  steps  slowly,  a  growing  oppres- 
sion at  mind.  Her  hand  touched  the  bell-knob  and 
fell  motionless  at  her  side,  as  if  struck  by  an  elec- 
tric shock. 

For  at  that  moment  a  gleam  from  the  street-lamp 
before  the  house  fell  distinctly  across  the  silvered 
door-plate. 

•  Upon  that  plate  her  staring  eyes  were  riveted. 
Transfixed  with  emotions  that  seemed  to  over- 
whelm her,  Myrtle  Blake  could  only  read  and  re- 
read the  letters  it  bore. 

For  the  name  engraved  thereon,  plainly  visible  to 
her  amazed  sight,  was  —  "  Percy  Grey." 


DISOWNED.  109 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
DISOWNED. 

"  I  HAVE  found  him  at  last!  " 

Myrtle  Blake  gasped  forth  the  words  tumultu- 
ously,  her  whole  being  sentient  with  thrilling  emo- 
tion, her  impressive  nature  alive  only-  to  the  great 
staring  fact  that  confronted  her. 

"  Percy  Grey  —  Percy  Grey!  "  she  repeated  over 
and  over  to  herself,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  silver 
door-plate.  "  It  can  be  no  coincidence.  It  is  he! 
it  is  he  —  my  Percy,  my  husband!  He  will  explain 
all.  Oh!  blessed  accident  that  brought  me  to  this 
house  to-night!  " 

Her  trusting,  womanly  heart  never  doubted  the 
fidelity  of  the  man  she  loved  at  that  moment.  All 
the  clouds  of  the  past  seemed  to  disappear,  confi- 
dence and  hope  revived,  and  without  pausing  to 
analyze  her  varied  emotions  Myrtle  Blake  seized 
the  bell-knob. 

A  loud  peal  rang  through  the  house.  The  rich 
stained-glass  door  of  the  vestibule  opened,  and  a 
servant — a  man  —  stood  upon  its  threshold. 

His  glance  swept  Myrtle  critically.  His  keen  eye 
seemed  to  read  in  her  ordinary  attire  and  tremb- 
ling, eager  manner,  the  pose  of  a  mendicant. 

"  What  do  you  want?  "  he  demanded,  harshly. 

She  could  scarcely  speak  for  excitement  and 
emotion.  It  was  well  that  her  veil  shadowed  her 
face,  or  her  unnaturally  pale  features  and  glittering 
eyes  would  have  startled  the  man. 

"  Mr.  Grey,  Mr.  Percy  Grey!  "  she  gasped  out. 

"  Yes;  well,  he  resides  here." 

"I  —  I  wish  to  see  him.     I  came  to  —  to " 

Her  lips  dropped  to  silence.  What  in  sympathy 
with  her  heart-thrilling  emotions  had  this  hard- 
visaged  man  —  how  could  she  frame  the  words 


1 10  DISOWNED. 

that,  betraying  her  identity  and  mission,  might  not 
be  timely  until  she  had  seen  Percy  Grey? 

"  There    was    an  advertisement "    she  said, 

quickly  resorting  to  a  ruse  to  gain  admittance. 

"  You  mean  for  a  housekeeper?" 

"Yes  — yes." 

"  Oh,  that  was  filled  hours  ago,"  carelessly  spoke 
the  man. 

He  had  half-closed  the  door.  Myrtle  was  fran- 
tic in  her  helplessness. 

"  One  moment,  please,"  she  cried.  "  It  was  not 
about  the  advertisement.  I  must  see  Mr.  Grey 
personally,  at  once." 

"  He  isn't  home.  Come  in  the  morning.  Drat 
these  beggars;  they  don't  know  what  they  want," 
he  muttered,  and  deliberately  closed  the  door  in 
Myrtle's  face. 

She  recoiled  as  though  dealt  a  blow.  Her  over- 
wrought mind  dictated  a  mild  effort  to  insist  on  ad- 
mittance, to  demand  shelter  beneath  the  roof  of  her 
legally  wedded  husband. 

But  suffering  had  taught  her  patience,  and  Myrtle 
retraced  her  way  down  the  steps,  and  walked  beyond 
the  mansion. 

"I  must  wait,"  she  murmured,  anxiously.  "I 
must  wait  until  he  returns.  Oh,  he  will  explain  all 
—  his  disappearance  —  this  new  home  here!  Yes, 
yes,  I  must  be  patient  until  I  have  seen  him." 

Beyond  the  radius  of  the  street-lamp's  glare  she 
stood,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  mansion,  counting  the 
slow  minutes,  consumed  with  emotions  that  surged 
through  her  soul  with  the  force  of  a  rushing  torrent. 

She  riveted  her  gaze  on  a  carriage  with  two 
superb  steeds,  in  charge  of  a  liveried  coachman, 
which  drove  in  front  of  the  mansion  a  moment  later. 

Then  her  eyes  wandered  to  the  mansion  itself 
expectantly.  A  quick,  vague,  jealous  emotion 
covered  her  heart  as,  across  the  light  at  the  upper 


DISOWNED.  Ill 

windows,  a  woman's  form  flitted  momentarily,  but 
she  repressed  all  thoughts  save  those  inspired  by 
utter  suspense  and  hopefulness,  as  the  front  door 
of  the  mansion  opened,  and  a  man's  form  ran  lightly 
down  the  steps. 

A  fugitive  ray  of  light  from  the  mansion  itself  for 
a  moment  plainly  outlined  the  figure.  Myrtle  Blake 
staggered  and  gasped  wildly: 

"It  is  he!" 

Conviction,  hope,  dread  were  in  her  tones.  To 
her  vision,  after  the  lapse  of  years,  once  again  the 
lithe  active  form  of  Percy  Grey  was  revealed. 

The  face  she  had  not  seen  distinctly,  except  as  to 
contour  and  at  a  distance.  One  mighty  impulse 
swayed  her  being,  and  she  dashed  impetuously 
toward  the  carriage. 

She  had  flung  aside  her  veil  now,  her  face  like 
marble,  her  eyes  aglow  with  excitement,  her  hand 
touching  that  of  the  coachman,  just  closing  the 
carriage-door. 

"  Mr.  Grey!  "  she  grasped  forth.  "  I  wish  to  see 
him." 

"What  is  it?" 

The  occupant  of  the  vehicle  leaned  towards  the 
open  door. 

"  Percy,  my  husband,  do  you  not  know  me?  " 

She  had  caught  a  full  view  of  his  face  now. 
Darker,  older  than  before,  his  features  were  those 
of  the  husband  she  had  loved  and  lost. 

In  utter  amazement  the  coachman  gazed  at  the 
strange  woman  who  thus  addressed  his  master. 

The  master  himself  had  started  forward  at  hearing 
her  so  familiarly  speak  his  name. 

A  stern  yet  apprehensive  look  flitted  over  his 
countenance. 

"  Woman,  who  are  you?"  he  demanded. 

The  words  repelled  her. 


112  FACE   TO   FACE. 

"  I  am  your  wife  —  Myrtle.  Do  you  not  know 
me  —  your  Cinderella?  " 

"  Close  the  door,  woman.     I  do  not  know  you." 

An  awful  cry  surged  to  Myrtle's  lips.  Through 
the  opened  window  of  the  carriage  she  saw  the 
man's  face  turn  white  as  her  own,  heard  him  mutter 
wildly  under  his  breath,  and  yet  he  had  disowned 
her. 

"  Wait  only  one  moment,"  she  pleaded;  "  I  have 
changed,  and  you  do  not  recognize  me.  Percy! 
Percy! " 

"  Drive  on." 

She  clung  to  the  carriage  frantically,  but  her 
grasp  was  torn  loose  as  the  vehicle  started  up. 
Then  she  fell. 

Brushed  to  the  street  itself,  the  man  to  whom  she 
had  appealed  noting  not,  caring  not,  that  the  wheels 
grazed  her  form,  that  she  had  fallen  upon  the  stone 
curb,  Myrtle  Blake,  her  brain  on  fire,  her  heart 
burned  to  stone,  lay  like  one  dead,  almost  at  the 
very  portals  of  the  stately  mansion  which  was  the 
home  of  Percy  Grey. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

FACE  TO    FACE. 

LIFE  was  a  blank,  returning  sensibility  a  trance, 
to  Myrtle  Blake  for  the  half  hour  following  the 
episode  of  the  carriage. 

In  falling  her  head  had  struck  the  stone  curb,  in- 
flicting a  wound  that  stained  her  face  with  blood, 
confusing  her  mind  even  after  she  had  struggled  to 
her  feet  and  reeled  blindly  down  the  street. 

At  last  she  sank  to  some  stone  steps,  and,  her 
head  bent  upon  her  hands,  endeavored  to  realize 
her  situation. 


FACE  TO   FACE.  113 

Fate's  last  cruel  blow  had  stunned  her.  Percy 
Grey  had  seen  her,  Percy  Grey  had  heard  her  name, 
and  yet  he  had  denied  knowing  her,  had  cruelly 
thrust  her  aside,  as  though  she  was  a  stranger. 

"  What  does  it  mean?  Is  all  this  some  horrible 
vision?"  she  moaned  in  anguish.  "  No,  no;  it  was 
he;  it  was  his  voice,  harder  and  harsher;  his  face, 
less  gentle  than  of  old.  Oh!  he  shall  see  me  —  he 
shall  tell  me  why  he  repels  me!  " 

A  wild  impulse  drove  her  to  her  feet.  She 
wiped  the  blood  from  her  face  with  her  handker- 
chief. She  summoned  all  her  courage  to  act 
determinedly  and  promptly,  and  retrace  her  way  to 
the  mansion. 

This  time,  as  she  rang  at  the- door-bell,  a  girl 
answered  her  summons. 

"  Mr.  Grey  has  not  returned?"  she  asked  in  a 
tone  of  forced  calmness. 

The  servant  replied  in  the  negative. 

"  I  wish  to  wait  for  him,  then,  or  to  leave  a  note. 
My  business  is  imperative." 

"  Step  this  way,  madam." 

Something  in  the  decided  tones  of  the  veiled 
visitor  impressed  the  girl  with  the  belief  that  she 
was  in  earnest,  and  determined  to  carry  out  her 
expressed  wishes. 

Over  a  heavy  velvet  carpet,  sinking  soft  and 
warm  to  her  tired  feet,  Myrtle  followed  the  servant 
to  a  room  at  the  end  of  the  hall. 

It  was  the  library  of  the  mansion,  and,  draw- 
ing a  chair  before  the  blazing  grate,  the  girl  said: 

"  You  can  wait  until  I  rind  out  when  Mr.  Grey 
will  be  at  home,  or  you  can  write  at  the  desk  there, 
madam." 

The  visitor  bowed  silently.  For  a  moment  the 
sense  of  warmth  and  comfort,  after  the  stormy  ex- 
perience of  the  night,  made  a  dreamy  drowsiness 
steal  over  frame  and  spirit. 

Desperate   8. 


114  FACE  TO  FACE. 

"  Kis  home,  his  pictures,"  murmured  Myrtle,  as 
she  glanced  around  the  elegantly  appointed  room. 
"  Oh,  there  must  be  some  mistake,  some  mystery 
about  all  this.  He  loved  me,  he  loved  me;  he 
cannot  be  cruel  when  he  knows  all.  What  is 
that?  " 

Her  eyes,  scanning  a  portrait  on  the  mantel, 
became  fixed  on  a  companion  picture  by  its  side. 

The  one  was  a  perfect  counterfeit  presentment  of 
Percy  Grey,  the  other 

Where  had  she  seen  that  face  before?  Some- 
where in  the  dim  past  it  had  crossed  her  vision, 
and  one  wild  throb  thrilled  her  soul  as  she  read, 
traced  across  its  lower  edge,  the  name  "  Blanche." 

It  seemed  to  mock  her,  that  dark,  handsome  face 
so  serene  and  defiant. 

"  If  it  should  be  that  he  is  false,  that  this  woman 
fills  his  heart!"  gasped  Myrtle,  a  flash  of  jealousy 
in  her  eyes,  a  remembrance  of  her  father's  vengeful 
words  in  her  mind.  "  No!  no " 

"  You  wished  to  see  Mr.  Grey?" 

A  musical  voice  had  broken  upon  her  soliloquy. 
She  turned,  startled. 

Before  her,  radiant  in  jewels  and  silks,  stood 
the  original  of  the  picture  on  the  mantel  —  Blanche 
Vansant. 

Her  heart  seemed  to  stand  still  as,  in  the  self- 
possessed  woman  before  her,  she  recognized  neither 
servant  nor  dependent  in  the  household. 

Still  she  managed  to  stammer  out: 

"  Yes,  I  wished  to  see  him  on  some  important 
business." 

"  He  will  not  be  at  home  for  some  time.  Will 
you  state  your  business  to  me?  I  am  Mrs.  Grey." 

A  wild  cry  rang  from  Myrtle  Blake's  lips. 

"  You  are  Mrs.  Grey!"  she  gasped  out,  confront- 
ing the  other  with  an  excitement  of  manner  so 
intense  that  Blanche  Vansant  recoiled  startled. 


THE  FALCON  AND  THE  DOVE.      11$ 

"  Yes,  madam;  and  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand 
your  manner  or  mission  here." 

In  a  flash,  as  the  possible  perfidy  of  the  man  she 
loved  came  to  her  mind,  and  as  a  rankling  sense  of 
suffering  and  wrong  tortured  her  soul  to  anguish, 
Myrtle  Blake  became  transformed. 

She  tore  aside  her  veil,  and  with  clinched  hands 
stood  face  to  face  with  the  mistress  of  the  mansion. 

"  It  is  false!"  she  cried,  in  wringing  tones;  "  I  am 
Percy  Grey's  legally- wedded  wife!" 

With  a  cry  of  mingled  dismay  and  amazement 
Blanche  Vansant  reeled  to  a  chair  for  support. 

"  Merciful  Heavens!"  fell  from  her  pallid  lips; 
"  it  is  Myrtle  Blake  — Cinderella!" 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  FALCON  AND  THE  DOVE. 

FOR  one  quivering  moment  of  time  Blanche 
Vansant  sat  staring  blankly  at  the  woman  before 
her. 

At  an  unexpected  crisis,  amid  all  her  dark  plots, 
she  had  been  confronted  with  a  terrible  surprise, 
and  for  once  in  her  life  the  dusky  siren  quailed,  and 
was  dumbfounded. 

Her  eye,  quick  and  penetrating,  that  had  closely 
scrutinized  the  worn,  bedraggled  garments  of  her 
visitor,  now  discerned  the  pallor  and  wretchedness 
of  the  face  so  suddenly  and  startingly  revealed  to 
view. 

From  those  features,  ordinarily  so  gentle  and 
shrinking,  there  flashed  forth  the  resolution  and 
defiance  of  a  crushed  soul  at  last  arousing  to  terrible 
energy. 

The  stern,  accusing  glance  of  Myrtle  Blake  never 
wandered  from  the  countenance  of  the  other.  But 


Il6  THE  FALCON  AND  THE  DOVE. 

she  did  not  speak.     In  that  moment  of  supreme 
emotion,  she  only  seemed  to  think  as  in  a  dream. 

Like  a  flash  there  seemed  awakened  in  her  soul 
the  fiercest  determination  to  fight  for  her  rights;  to 
maintain  before  this  dark  schemer  the  claim  she  had 
made,  be  Percy  Grey  perfidious  and  cruel  as  he 
might. 

Succeeding  to  amazement  and  terror  in  the  heart 
of  Blanche  Vansant,  came  the  warning  promptings 
of  prudence  and  intrigue. 

The  mask  went  up  under  her  superb  self-control. 
With  a  powerful  effort  she  regained  her  usual  bold- 
ness and  force  of  manner  and  voice. 

"  A  wrong  move  and  we  are  lost!"  she  murmured, 
in  an  intense  tone  of  voice,  and  then,  so  abruptly 
that  Myrtle  was  startled,  she  arose  to  her  feet,  and, 
with  a  glance  of  infinite  disdain  at  her  visitor, 
swept  to  the  door  of  the  library. 

"  Madame,  you  leave  me  after  what  I  have  told 
you? "  began  Myrtle. 

"  Yes,"  came  the  measured,  hissing  reply,  "  to 
summon  the  servants  to  turn  you  from  the  house!" 

"  You  would  dare " 

"  Anything,  against  an  impostor." 

"  I  am  no  impostor.  Stay!  "  cried  Myrtle,  her 
soul's  indignation  expressed  in  her  thrilling  tones. 
"  If  you  wish  to  learn " 

"  Nothing,"  came  the  icv  interruption.  "  Yours  is 
not  the  first  absurd  claim  made  to  wring  money  by 
blackmail.  Leave  this  house  if  you  are  wise,  or 
the  police  shall  remove  you." 

"  Stop!  Be  warned,  once  for  all.  You  had  bet- 
ter listen  to  me!  "  cried  Myrtle,  her  words  quiver- 
ing with  wild  menace.  "  I  am  no  impostor.  I  am 
Percy  Grey's  wife.  I  can  read  your  vain  dissimu- 
lation, for  you  know  me  —  you,  Blanche  Vansant, 
who  robbed  my  father  when  you  thought  him  dying. 
Ah!  you  pale  now,  madame!  Your  crime  is  known. 


THE   FALCON   AND   THE  DOVE.  1 1/ 

A  vengeance  is  approaching.  Turn  me  from  this 
roof  until  I  see  my  husband,  the  man  you  claim  as 
yours,  and  see  what  a  desperate  woman  will  do!  " 

The  siren  paused. 

"  You  are  either  some  reckless  impostor,  or 
mad,"  she  said,  maintaining  the  original  role  she 
had  assumed. 

"  I  am  neither,  but  a  wronged,  persecuted 
woman,  determined  to  claim  her  rights,  the  more 
so  when  intrigue  and  cruelty  seek  to  rob  me  of  my 
fair  name  and  the  man  I  love,  madame.  There  is 
some  mystery  surrounding  this  mansion  and  its  in- 
mates that  I  am  determined  to  learn.  You  may 
affect  ignorance  of  it  and  of  me,  and  yet  your  words, 
when  I  startled  you  by  revealing  myself,  show  that 
you  know  me." 

"  I  will  listen  no  longer  to  your  preposterous 
claims,"  responded  Blanche,  contemptuously.  "  I 
am  Mrs.  Percy  Grey.  My  husband  and  I  never 
saw  you  before.  In  the  face  of  that  denial,  what 
will  you  produce  to  overcome  the  influence  of  our 
wealth  and  our  statements?  " 

"Proofs!" 

It  was  the  triumphant  cry  of  a  soul  desperate  and 
determined.  Blanche  Vansant  trembled  slightly. 

"  Proofs?  "  she  repeated,  in  a  husky  tone.  "  You 
have  none." 

"  Have  I  not?  Wait.  Not  to  you,  because  to 
me  you  are  naught,  but  to  Percy  Grey,  true  or  false, 
I  will  show  the  written,  undeniable  proofs  that  he  is 
my  husband,  and  dares  not  deny  it.  He  will  not  — 
oh!  he  will  not,  when  I  tell  him  all.  By  what 
power  you  hold  him  I  know  not,  except  that  it  be 
evil  and  perfidious." 

"  We  shall  see,"  hbsed  the  siren,  maddened  at 
the  bold  words  of  the  woman  she  had  believed  she 
could  crush  with  a  look. 

"  Aye !  we  shall  see.     I  came  to  this   mansion  a 


Il8  THE   FALCON  AND  THE  DOVE. 

trembling,  hopeless  creature.  I  am  here  now,  a 
woman  aroused  fully  to  battle  for  her  rights  if 
wrong  has  been  done — to  unmask  intrigue  and 
crime  if  such  have  been  attempted. " 

"  Merciful  heavens!  "  murmured  Blanche,  wildly, 
"  does  she  suspect  our  real  secret —  can  she  know 
.the  true  identity  of " 

The  bell  rang  with  an  echoing  peal  at  that  mo- 
ment. 

"  It  is  he,"  murmured  Blanche,  in  an  intense  tone. 

Her  basilisk  glance  rested  on  Myrtle's  face  as  she 
spoke.  The  latter  had  grown  pale  and  agitated. 

"  It  is  Percy  Grey,"  she  said.  "  There  is  that  in 
yonder  face  that  tells  me  you  would  prevent  my 
meeting  him  if  you  could,  but  you  shall  not." 

"Silence!  he  is  coming  here.  You  shall  have 
your  wish  —  you  shall  see  him." 

Myrtle  Blake  arose  to  her  feet,  her  lips  parted, 
her  heart  beating  wildly. 

The  moment  of  her  destiny  had  come.  Here 
the  man  she  sought  could  not  evade  her  —  he  must 
listen  to  her. 

The  other,  watching  her  with  jealous,  devour- 
ing glance,  counted  the  footsteps  in  the  hall  with- 
out, momentarily  approaching  the  library. 

"  If  I  could  warn  him !  "  she  murmured ,  anxiously. 

A  low  moan  diverted  her  from  her  intention  of 
reaching  the  door,  to  prepare  the  new-comer  for 
the  surprise  that  awaited  him. 

She  saw  Myrtle  Blake  reel  where  she  stood,  and 
saw  her  pallor  increase,  and  then  she  sank  to  the 
floor  an  inert  mass. 

"  She  has  fainted,"  breathed  the  siren,  in  satis- 
fied tones.  "  Good!  it  will  give  us  time  to  think 
and  act. " 

It  was  true.  At  the  throbbing,  suspenseful  mo- 
ment when  the  crisis  had  come,  and  all  her  strength 
was  needed  to  combat  wily  foes,  poor  Myrtle  had 


UNMASKED.  1 19 

gone  down  under  the  terrible  strain  of  the  excite- 
ment of  the  hour. 

The  knob  of  the  library  door  turned  as  Blanche 
Vansant  crossed  the  room  toward  it. 

On  the  threshold  stood  the  man  of  the  carriage, 
the  man  Myrtle  had  vainly  appealed  to  as  her  hus- 
band —  as  Percy  Grey. 

Her  finger  on  her  lips,  Blanche  Vansant  made  a 
warning  gesture  of  silence. 

The  man  regarded  her  with  a  mystified  look,  not 
noticing  the  prostrate  form  behind  her. 

Softly  closing  the  door  behind  him,  she  spoke  in 
a  low,  rapid  tone: 

"  There  is  no  need  of  alarming  the  servants,"  she 
said. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  was  afraid  if  I  did  not  prepare  you  for  a  sur- 
prise, you  might  cry  out." 

"What  surprise?  " 

"  This,"  replied  Blanche,  pointing  to  the  insensi- 
ble Myrtle.  "  Mrs.  Percy  Grey  is  here." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

UNMASKED. 

THE  man  recoiled  with  a  shock,  as  his  glance 
rested  on  Myrtle  Blake. 

Then  a  deep  scowl  crossed  his  face. 

"  How  did  she  come  here?  "  he  demanded. 

"  You  know  who  she  is  —  you  realize  what 
disaster  her  appearance  may  mean  to  us?" 

"Fully." 

"  And  yet  you  ask  coolly  and  quietly  how  she 
came  here.  Are  you  not  amazed,  dumbfounded?  " 

"No." 

"  Then  you  expected  it?  " 


I2O  UNMASKED. 

"  Yes,  for  I  saw  her  once  before." 

"  When?  " 

"  An  hour  since.     Ring  for  the  servants." 

His  face  had  grown  hard,  and  the  cruel  gleam  in 
his  eye  told  of  some  fixed  determination. 

Elanche  Vansant  regarded  him  in  some  wonder. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do?  "  she  asked. 

"  Turn  this  woman  from  the  house,  brand  her  as 
an  impostor,  crush  her  at  the  very  outset  of  her 
bold  claim." 

"  Are  you  mad?  " 

"  No.  When  to-night  she  came  to  the  carriage 
and  called  me  Percy —  husband,  I  was  startled,  but 
I  acted  defiantly,  boldly.  I  drove  on  as  if  she 
was  exactly  what  I  claimed  —  an  impostor. 

"  You  forget  what  she  knows." 

"  I  forget  nothing.  By  accident  she  has  found 
us.  She  is  friendless  and  poor." 

"  Her  father "  began  Blanche,  with  a  slight 

shudder. 

"  Is  dead,  even  as  we  believed  her  to  be.  No, 
Blanche,  we  have  almost  accomplished  our  schemes 
— another  month  and  the  actual  fortune  of  Samuel 
Towner  is  ours.  Let  us  act  boldly,  defiantly.  To 
falter,  or  compromise,  or  complicate,  might  ruin 
all.  This  woman  and  her  claim  we  will  ignore. 
Who  will  believe  her  claim,  that  she  is  the  wife  of 
Percy  Gray?  " 

"  Everybody,  if  what  she  says  is  true." 

"What?" 

"  That  she  has  the  proofs  to  support  her  claim." 

The  man  started  violently. 

"  It  cannot  be,"  he  murmured  concernedly. 
"  You  told  me  she  was  a  gentle,  shrinking  child." 

"  Whom  time  and  suffering  have  developed  into 
a  desperate,  determined  woman  —  dangerous  to 
our  every  plan,"  interrupted  Blanche,  bitterly. 


UNMASKED.  121 

"  You  told  me  to  never  fear  that  wild  wedding  at 
the  river." 

"  I  did  not  know  all  then.  She  defies  us  with 
proofs.  Turn  her  from  here  and  all  is  ruined." 

Under  the  influence  of  her  words,  the  man 
looked  concerned. 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do?"  he  demanded, 
anxiously. 

Blanche  Vansant's  eyes  darted  a  glance  of  hatred 
at  the  silent  form  on  the  floor. 

She  drew  nearer  to  her  companion,  a  vengeful 
glow  on  her  face. 

"  I  would  have  you  secure  at  last  the  fortune  we 
have  plotted  for  so  long." 

"  It  will  be  ours  in  less  than  a  month." 

"  Not  if  this  woman  has  her  freedom." 

"  Ha,  you  mean " 

"  That  her  liberty,  now  that  she  has  discovered 
you,  means  a  terrible  menace  to  our  schemes." 

She  spoke  rapidly,  vengefully.  The  man  by  her 
side  trembled  visibly  at  the  dark  hint  her  words 
and  manner  conveyed. 

"  You  would  imprison  her  —  you  would  keep  her 
here?" 

"  No." 

"What  then?" 

"  The  other  disappeared.  Have  you  lost  your 
cunning  and  boldness?  Look!  she  is  helpless  and 
at  our  mercy." 

"  But  she  may  have  friends  outside." 

"  We  must  risk  that." 

"  And  the  servants?  " 

"  Know  nothing,  except  that  a  strange  woman 
called  to  see  you  to-night." 

The  man  shuddered.  He  felt  the  dark,  witching 
eyes  of  the  siren  fixed  on  his  face,  reading  its  every 
expression. 

He  knew  that   her  crafty    soul,    in   hinting   at 


122  UNMASKED. 

"  disappearance,"    suggested   a   deeper   crime,    if 
necessary,  to  protect  their  mutual  interests. 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  say,"  he  finally  spoke. 
"  This  woman  could  disturb  our  plans  if  she  is 
armed  with  proofs  of  the  past." 

"  She  boasted  of  it." 

"  There  is  but  one  way." 

"Well?" 

"  The  secret  passage  rarely  used  to  the  rear 
building,  where  Samuel  Towner  had  his  labora- 
tory." 

"Yes,  I  know  of  it." 

"  We  must  convey  this  woman  there." 

"  And  then ?  " 

"  Decide  .whether  we  shall  hold  her  a  prisoner 
until  our  plans  are  accomplished." 

He  hesitated. 

"  Or  cause  her  to  disappear  effectually,"  supple- 
mented the  woman  impatiently.  "  Come,  are  you 
a  coward,  to  shrink  when  vital  interests  are  at 
stake?" 

"  Percy!  " 

They  started  as,  soft  and  sighing  as  a  summer 
zephyr,  the  word  was  breathed  on  the  still  air  of 
the  library. 

Both  turned  quickly.  The  form  on  the  floor 
moved  slightly. 

"  She  is  recovering  consciousness.  We  must 
remove  her  hence,"  said  Blanche. 

"  It  is  too  late.  She  is  opening  her  eyes.  Con- 
ceal yourself. " 

"  And  you?  " 

"  Will  learn  how  much  we  have  to  fear  from  this 
woman." 

Myrtle  Blake  had  come  back  to  sensibility  with 
the  name  of  the  man  she  loved  quivering  on  her 
lips. 

•She  looked  around  her  with  a  dazed,  confused 


UNMASKED.  123 

stare,  and  then  slowly  struggling  to  her  feet,  stag- 
gered toward  a  chair. 

Half  way  across  the  room  she  came  to  an  abrupt 
halt. 

"  Percy!  "  she  gasped  out  wildly. 

For  before  her,  his  arms  folded  across  his  breast, 
regarding  her  fixedly,  coldly,  was  the  man  she  had 
so  vainly  appealed  to  once  before  that  night. 

The  full  glare  of  the  chandelier  fell  across  his 
features.  The  effect  produced  seemed  to  transfix 
her.  With  parted  lips  and  bated  breath,  Myrtle 
stood  for  the  space  of  a  moment,  devouring  that 
false,  handsome  face,  as  if  reading  thereon  the 
every  thought  of  his  treacherous  mind. 

What  was  it  that  repelled  her?  What  flash  of 
sentient  thought,  of  womanly  instinct,  drove  all 
the  pleading,  passionate  warmth  from  her  eyes,  and 
supplanted  it  with  a  terrified,  suspicious  expres- 
sion? 

"  You  have  called  my  name.  Well,  woman,  what 
is  it?  " 

He  spoke  with  studied  coldness  of  manner;  his 
eye  never  quailed  at  the  growing  menace  of  bold- 
ness in  her  own. 

"  A  single  question,"  came  slowly,  huskily,  from 
her  lips.  "  You  are  the  proprietor  of  this  man- 
sion? " 

"  Percy  Grey,  yes." 

"  And  the  woman  I  have  seen  here  is  your  wife?  " 

"  She  is.  You  have  terrified  her,  as  you  have 
amazed  me,  with  your  audacious  claims  to-night. 
Whoever  you  are " 

"  You  are  sure  you  do  not  know  me?  " 

What  was  in  the  tones  of  this  woman,  so  changed 
from  her  former  pleading  accents,  that  made  the 
man  vaguely  uneasy? 

"  No,  I  have  never  seen  you  before.  I  cannot 
imagine  who  you  are. " 


124  UNMASKED. 

"It  is  false!" 

Myrtle  Blake  uttered  the  words  in  a  tone  that 
was  steady,  and  firm,  and  defiant. 

"  It  is  false,"  she  repeated,  slowly;  "  for  you  know 
that  I  am  Percy  Grey's  wife. " 

"Your  proofs?" 

"  Are  not  for  your  inspection  and  control." 

"  For  whose,  then?  " 

"  For  justice,  for  the  law.  Man,  you  have  un- 
masked yourself!  In  your  false  face  I  see  what 
my  blinded  love  at  first  concealed.  If  you  should 
say  to  me  this  hour  that  you  acknowledged  me  as 
your  wife,  that  this  princely  home  was  mine,  this 
should  be  my  answer. " 

She  was  grandly  eloquent  in  gesture  and  word. 
With  a  sudden  spring  she  gained  the  bell-rope. 
The  noisy  clangor  of  bells  echoed  through  the 
mansion. 

The  man,  and  even  Blanche  Vansant,  secreted 
behind  a  curtain  in  an  alcove,  were  amazed  — 
more,  alarmed  —  at  the  strange  movement. 

"  Woman,  what  do  you  mean?  "  demanded  the 
former  bewilderingly. 

"  To  call  the  servants. " 

"  And  why?  " 

"  To  unmask  you  and  your  vile  accomplice.  I 
have  read  your  secret.  My  triumph  has  come. " 

"  We  are  lost!  "  murmured  the  trembling  Blanche 
from  her  concealment. 

"  For,"  continued  Myrtle,  with  flashing  eyes,  "  I 
know  all  at  last.  You  are  not  Percy  Grey!  " 

"  Discovered!" 

The  word  was  fairly  hissed  forth  by  the  man  as 
he  recoiled,  pale  and  alarmed. 

"They  are  coming — the  servants;  they  shall 
know  all!  "  cried  Myrtle,  wildly  excited.  "  Impos- 


DARK   WORK.  12$ 

tor,  murderer,  to  the  world  you  shall  tell  what  you 
have  done  with  the  man  whose  name  and  fortune 
you  have  stolen  —  my  husband  —  Percy  Grey!  " 


CHAPTER  XX. 

DARK  WORK. 

UNMASKED,  denounced,  the  man  Myrtle  Blake 
had  at  first  believed  to  be  Percy  Grey  stood  dumb- 
founded for  the  moment  at  her  thrilling  denunci- 
ation and  prompt  action. 

The  suddenness  of  the  denouement  to  the  scene 
in  which  he  had  affected  to  be  the  cold,  indignant 
man  of  wealth  treating  with  an  impostor,  had 
robbed  him  temporarily  of  motion. 

Spellbound  he  stood  staring  at  that  wraith  from 
the  past  who,  in  reviving  its  horrors  and  crimes 
by  her  presence,  also  menaced  all  the  hopes  and 
schemes  of  his  future. 

"  Fool!  would  you  allow  her  to  spoil  all?  " 

Blanche  Vansant,  hissing  the  words  malignantly, 
had  sprang  into  view. 

Myrtle  Blake,  her  eyes  flashing,  her  face  aglow 
with  excitement  and  emotion,  stood  throbbing  and 
defiant,  the  bell-rope  still  in  her  hand. 

Steps,  in  answer  to  her  summons,  were  echoing 
in  the  hall  without. 

With  a  spring,  the  siren  reached  Myrtle's  side. 

She  had  taken  from  her  pocket  her  handkerchief, 
and  with  it  a  phial  containing  some  subtle  anaes- 
thetic, for  its  fumes  pervaded  her. 

Before  Myrtle  could  realize  it,  she  had  seized  her 
around  the  neck.  With  all  her  tiger-like  strength, 
she  pressed  the  handkerchief  to  her  face,  meanwhile 
holding  her  in  a  close  grasp. 

A  cry  of  alarm  gurgled  in  Myrtle's  throat,  her 


126  DARK  WORK. 

eyes  closed,  she  gasped  painfully,  and  then  sank  in- 
sensible to  the  carpet. 

"  The  door,  quick!  "  ordered  Blanche. 

The  man  obeyed  her,  and  met  the  curious,  peer- 
ing servant  with  a  careless  explanation  of  the  false 
call. 

His  brow  was  dark,  his  face  pallid,  as  he  locked 
the  door  and  turned  to  Blanche. 

"  This  is  bad  work,"  he  muttered. 

"  Why  so?  "  she  demanded,  coolly. 

"  The  servants." 

"  They  suspect?  " 

"  How  can  they  help  it?  The  coachman  heard 
this  woman's  claim,  and  the  servant  who  admitted 
her  must  suspect  something." 

"Well,  what  of  it?" 

This,  that  I  saw  from  the  maid's  face  at  the  door 
just  now  that  she  is  curious  over  these  strange  oc- 
currences. Should  they  have  overheard  us,  danger- 
ous gossip  would  ensue." 

"  It  is  to  their  interest  to  remain  silent." 

"  Not  if  we  have  an  enemy  among  them. " 

Blanche  started  violently. 

"  You  mean " 

"  That  such  might  be  the  case.  We  cannot  be  too 
careful.  You  say  you  believe  Bryce  Williard  has 
escaped  jail?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Once  he  learns  that  your  treachery  sent  him 
there,  he  will  be  an  implacable  foe.  He  is  alert 
and  shrewd,  and  if  he  learned  the  truth " 

"  How  can  he?  " 

"  How  could  this  woman?  You  say  I  resemble 
Percy  Grey?  " 

"  You  are  his  counterpart." 

"  And  yet  this  woman,  his  wife,  pierced  the  mask. 
Suppose  she  was  free  to  pursue  her  investigations, 


DARK   WORK. 

and  I  was  revealed  as  Earle  Towner,  the  false  heir 
to  Samuel  Towner's  estate?  " 

"  She  must  not  be." 

"  That  is  true;  but  if  the  eyes  of  love  tore  aside 
the  mask,  may  not  the  deeper-sear  hing  quest  of 
hate  also  accomplish  it?  Once  unmasked  to  the 
world,  for  you  and  me  the  prison  yawns.  When 
we  fled  from  Chicago,  personating  Grey  and  his 
wife,  I  wedded  you;  I  offered  to  share  the  perils 
and  profits  of  this  scheme.  Percy  Grey  disap- 
peared." 

"  And  you  took  his  place?  " 

"  Yes.  I  was  accepted  as  the  real  heir.  I  was 
placed  in  possession  of  this  mansion;  but  here,  after 
all  this  time,  when  within  a  single  month  this  vast 
fortune  will  have  been  turned  into  ready  cash,  this 
unforeseen  menace  threatens  it.  How  do  we  know 
but  that  this  woman  has  friends  outside;  that  even 
Bryce  Williard,  burning  with  revenge,  may  be  in 
league  with  her?" 

Blanche  Vansant's  brow  darkened,  but  her  face 
was  resolute. 

"  That  is  scarcely  probable;  we  will  deal  with 
facts  as  they  assail  us.  If  Bryce  Williard  reveals 
himself,  we  must  do  with  him  as  with  this  first 
enemy  to  cross  our  path  —  crush  him.  " 

The  ferocity  of  the  woman's  manner  made  her  ac- 
complice shudder. 

"  Come,"  she  went  on;  "this  woman  must  be 
removed. " 

"  Whither?" 

"  As  we  originally  designed,  to  the  laboratory. 
How  you  tremble!  You  must  not  falter  now.  If 
we  can  maintain  the  imposture  you  have  kept  up 
so  long  a  few  weeks  longer,  we  will  be  ready  then 
to  fly  at  any  moment  when  trouble  comes,  with  the 
fortune  we  have  plotted  for. " 

Her   words    seemed    to  infuse  new  energy  and 


128  DARK   WORK. 

courage    into    the  wavering  soul    of  her  accom- 
plice. 

"  What  is  a  life  more  or  less?  "  he  muttered; 
"  but  you  forget  one  thing. " 

"  What  is  that?  "spoke  Blanche,  inquiringly. 

"  This  woman  —  the  servants  know  she  is  here." 

"  That  is  true. " 

"  They  will   be  watching  for   her    departure.     I 
know  their  prying,  inquisitive  nature." 
.  "  Well?" 

"  Should  she  disappear,  as  we  propose,  they 
might  suspect." 

"  I  will  provide  for  all  that." 

"  How?" 

Blanche  kneeled  beside  the  prostrate  Myrtle,  and 
began  removing  her  bonnet  and  shawl. 

These  she  at  once  donned,  drawing  the  veil  over 
her  face.  Then,  secreting  a  light  hood  of  her  own 
under  the  shawl,  she  said: 

"  I  am  ready.  You  will  let  me  out,  and  I  will 
return  stealthily  in  a  little  while.  The  servants 
will  recognize  these  garments  as  those  of  our  vis- 
itor, and  will  believe  she  has  left  the  house." 

The  precaution  was  a  prudent  one  for  the  plotters, 
for,  as  the  pretended  Percy  Grey  accompanied  the 
disguised  Blanche  to  the  door,  a  curious  face,  that 
of  a  servant,  peered  from  the  upper  staircase. 

The  man  returned  to  the  library,  relocked  the 
door,  and  then  proceeded  to  an  alcove,  where  he 
drew  a  curtain  aside,  revealing  a  small  door  set  in 
the  wall. 

This  he  unlocked,  and  taking  a  small  hand-lamp 
from  a  recess,  lit  it,  and  entered  a  dark,  narrow 
passage-way. 

It  led  to  a  small  structure  in  the  rear  of  the 
mansion,  which  had  been  built  by  its  former  master, 
Samuel  Towner,  who  made  a  hobby  of  experi- 
mental chemistry. 


A  NEW  MENACE.  129 

The  passage-way  terminated  at  another  door, 
which  he  unlocked,  and  setting  the  lamp  inside  a 
large  apartment,  retraced  his  way  to  the  library. 

"  The  upper  room  in  the  laboratory  has  only  one 
window,  and  that  is  barred,  and  a  stout  door.  I 
will  secure  this  woman  there  until  we  can  decide 
what  to  do." 

He  lifted  the  limp,  senseless  form  of  poor  Myrtle 
Grey  in  his  arms  as  he  spoke,  and  bore  her  rapidly 
down  the  passage-way  to  the  laboratory,  which 
was  to  be  her  prison,  or  her  tomb,  according  as  the 
heartless  caprice  of  Blanche  Vansant  decided. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

A   NEW   MENACE. 

THE  daring  adventuress  who  was  the  wife  and 
accomplice  of  the  false  Percy  Grey,  of  the  real 
Earle  Towner,  fulfilled  the  part  she  had  assumed, 
and  passed  down  the  steps  of  the  mansion,  a  per- 
fect counterpart  of  the  crushed,  homeless  creature 
whose  identity  she  had  temporarily  stolen. 

There  were  mingled  emotions  in  her  heart  as  in 
a  flash  she  comprehended  all  that  had  occurred, 
and  determined  not  to  waver  in  the  plot  under 
play. 

She  was  jealous  of  Myrtle  Blake,  although  she, 
Blanche,  had  connived  at  the  disappearance  and 
even  the  death  of  the  man  they  mutually  loved. 

She  feared  her  as  she  realized  how  a  word 
spoken  on  the  outside  regarding  Earle  Towner 
would  destroy  their  most  cherished  plans. 

"  She  must  die!  "  hissed  the  woman  in  an  intense 
tone.  "  I  will  go  out  of  sight  of  the  house  to  carry 
out  the  farce  I  am  playing,  and  then,  discarding 
these  rags,  assume  my  own  garb  hidden  under 

Desperate  9. 


130  A   NEW  MENACE. 

them,  and  return  to  the  mansion.  Then  Earle 
Towner  must  not  falter  in  removing  this  dangerous 
enemy  from  our  path." 

She  paused  abruptly  as  a  quick  footstep  sounded 
behind  her,  and  the  next  moment  a  strong  hand 
touched  her  arm. 

"  What  do  you  want  —  who  are  you " 

Then,  as  her  eyes  pierced  the  veil,  and  surveyed 
the  face  of  the  man  she  had  addressed,  her  lips 
seemed  frozen  to  silence. 

"  I  am  your  friend.  Do  not  shrink  nor  become 
alarmed,  Myrtle.  I  have  followed  you;  I  saw  you 
enter  yonder  house.  I  wish  to  tell  you  that  I  am 
your  friend,  and  although  we  have  not  met  before 
since  that  unfortunate  night  when  you  were  sup- 
posed to  be  drowned " 

"Stop!" 

Blanche  Vansant  had  found  power  to  speak  and 
act  at  last. 

"  Bryce  Williard!  "  she  gasped  out. 

Then  she  had  darted  from  the  spot,  bent  only  on 
escaping  the  man  she  had  so  basely  betrayed  in  the 
past  ere  he  recognized  her. 

But  he  was  as  quick  as  herself.  Before  she  had 
proceeded  a  dozen  steps  he  was  up  with  her;  his 
hand  seized  her  veil;  it  fell  aside. 

The  street-lamp  fell  across  that  false,  beautiful 
face,  plainly  revealing  its  well-known  features  to 
her  pursuer. 

"  Blanche  Vansant!  "  he  cried.  "  Ah,  then,  we 
meet  at  last." 

His  manner  had  changed  suddenly,  ominously. 
He  drew  back  as  if  no  longer  fearful  of  her  flight. 
His  hands  clinched  slowly,  his  eyes  blazed  like 
fire,  while  over  his  sinister  face  there  came  a  deep- 
ening scowl  that  was  dark  as  hate. 

Evidently  he  had  never  dreamed  of  this  surprise, 
and  yet  its  occurrence  appeared  to  absorb  his 


A  NEW  MENACE.  1 31 

mind,  even  to  the  exclusion  of  all  thoughts  tem- 
porarily of  the  woman  he  had  judged  her  to  be. 

Deathly  pale,  Blanche  recoiled  from  the  hiss- 
ing, venomous  words  — the  condemning,  rage-filled 
glance. 

"Traitress,  thief,  murderess!"  fell  slowly,  ter- 
ribly from  Williard's  lips;  "  at  last  we  meet  again. 
Ah!  you  thought  to  escape  me  —  you,  who  re- 
ceived in  trust  my  money,  only  to  appropriate  it; 
you,  who  inveigled  me  into  a  meeting  with  your- 
self, only  to  betray  me  basely  to  the  officer  of  the 
law.  But  I  have  traced  you  down!  There  is  a  deep 
score  for  you  and  me  to  settle,  a  deadly  vengeance 
I  have  sworn  to  execute  against  you  and  yours." 

"I  never  betrayed  you — your  money  I  can 
return  to  you,"  panted  the  woman,  shuddering 
under  the  man's  scathing  words. 

"It  is  false!  Stop;  make  no  movement  to  leave 
me,  or  you  will  regret  it." 

"  But  there  is  some  one  coming.  I  will  not  be 
seen  here.  Let  me  go,  I  tell  you,  or  I  will  shriek 
for  help,  and  denounce  you  as  the  criminal  and 
escaped  convict  that  you  are. " 

A  harsh,  unnatural  laugh  met  her  words. 

"  Do  it!  "  cried  Williard,  tauntingly.  "  Do  it  now 
and  at  once,  and  see  what  I  in  return  will  do.  Tell 
the  world  who  I  am,  and  send  me  back  to  jail,  and 
you  and  your  scheming  accomplice,  Earle  Towner, 
shall  join  me  there." 

"  Merciful  heavens!  he  knows  all.  We  are  lost," 
murmured  Blanche  Vansant,  hoarsely. 

Her  companion  observed  her  emotion. 

"Ah!"  he  cried  triumphantly,  "you  falter  and 
tremble  at  last.  I  have  not  been  watching  in  vain. 
I  know  all  your  secrets.  But  on  that  score  enough 
for  the  present.  My  interest  is  deeper  than  that. 
I  saw  a  woman  enter  the  mansion  you  call  home, 


132  A  NEW  MENACE. 

She  has  not  left  it.  Where  is  she.  What  have  you 
done  with  Myrtle  Blake?" 

There  was  no  use  of  denial.  The  woman  saw  it 
in  Williard's  menacing  glance. 

"  She  left  the  house  half  an  hour  ago." 

11  How?" 

"  By  a  rear  entrance." 

"  Then  why  are  you  wearing  her  bonnet  and 
shawl?" 

Blanche  started  and  did  not  reply. 

The  full  peril  of  her  position,  the  fierce  perti- 
nacity of  this  man,  terrified  her. 

But  a  covert  gleam  of  treacherous  malice  flashed 
in  her  eyes  as  she  divined  a  means  of  leading  this 
dangerous  enemy  into  a  trap. 

"  Why  do  you  wish  to  know  of  Myrtle  Blake?  " 
she  demanded. 

"  Because  the  old  love  for  her  is  not  dead ;  because 
I  would  save  her  from  your  plots  by  making  her 
my  wife." 

"  He  does  not  know  all,  then,"  whispered  the 
siren  tumultuously  to  herself.  "  He  believes  Percy 
Grey  dead." 

And  then  aloud  she  said: 

"You  wish  to  see  Myrtle  Blake?  " 

"I  will  see  her." 

The  woman  laid  her  hand  on  Williard's  arm.  All 
the  deft  dissimulation  of  a  wily  actress  was  called 
to  her  command  now. 

"  Bryce  Williard,"  she  said  softly,  "  when  you 
know  all,  you  will  see  how  foolish  it  is  for  us  to 
quarrel." 

He  shook  off  her  hand  with  an  impatient  gesture, 
but  she  saw  that  her  artifice  had  affected  him  with 
the  influence  of  her  old  dominant  power  over  him. 

"  There  is  a  fortune  to  share,"  she  went  on,  "  or 
to  lose.  Come,  be  reasonable,  and  forget  the 
past." 


A  NEW  MENACE.  133 

"  Myrtle  —  where  is  she?     We  waste  time." 

"  As  fully  as  you  defy  me  in  threatening  to  de- 
stroy our  schemes,  I  defy  you,  then!  "  cried  Blanche, 
with  assumed  anger.  "  You  shall  never  see  Myrtle 
Blake  again,  unless  I  will  it." 

Her  words  seemed  to  impress  the  man,  for  he 
was  silent. 

"  Agree  to  talk  with  me,  not  here,  not  now,  but 
soon,  and  where  we  will  not  be  overheard,  and  to 
combine  with  me  to  carry  out  a  plot  involving  a 
fortune,  and  I  will  lead  you  to  Myrtle  Blake. 

"  I  agree." 

It  seemed  that  his  interest  in  Myrtle  Blake  super- 
seded the  vengeful  impulses  of  his  nature,  for  amid 
his  eagerness  to  regain  her  he  did  not  notice  the 
covert  gleam  of  murderous  hate  and  satisfaction  in 
Blanche  Vansant's  eyes. 

"  Come,  then,"  she  said  simply. 

"Where?" 

"  To  a  spot  where  we  can  converse  uninter- 
ruptedly." 

"  And  Myrtle  Blake?  " 

"You  shall  see  her  within  the  hour." 

"  She  is  in  the  mansion?" 

"  She  is  a  prisoner  where  you  cannot  find  her, 
unless  I  will  it,"  was  the  resolute  reply. 

Blanche  Vansant  led  the  way,  not  to  the  front  of 
the  mansion,  but  around  the  square  to  a  court. 

Her  companion  followed  her.  She  stopped  at  a 
little  gate  set  in  the  masonry  of  the  high  brick  wall 
surrounding  the  mansion. 

She  urged  him  to  silence  and  caution  as  they 
crossed  the  yard  and  entered  the  lower  portion  of  a 
singular-looking  structure  directly  behind  the  house. 

She  closed  the  door  behind  them,  and  extended 
her  hand  to  his  own,  to  lead  him  in  the  darkness. 

"Trapped!"  she  murmured  intensely,  as  her 
hand  sought  her  bosom. 


134  VICTIMS   OF   CRIME. 

She  had  concealed  there  when  behind  the  curtain 
in  the  library  a  stiletto. 

She  grasped  its  jeweled  handle  now,  a  fierce, 
murderous  joy  in  her  treacherous  heart. 

"  Wait,"  she  commanded;  "  we  must  go  cau- 
tiously." 

She  estimated  the  position  of  her  enemy  so  as  to 
strike  but  once,  and  that  once  with  effect. 

Her  hand  raised  the  weapon,  and  then  descended 
with  the  rapidity  of  light. 

A  wild  cry  of  pain,  a  gurgling  moan,  a  heavy  fall 
followed  the  movement. 

"Fool!"  hissed  the  siren,  triumphantly,  "you 
have  invited  your  own  doom!  Another  out  of  the 
way  who  would  block  our  path  to  fortune!  Our 
secret  is  safe !  " 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

VICTIMS  OF  CRIME. 

THE  false  Percy  Grey  was  seated  at  a  desk  hastily 
looking  over  some  papers,  when  Blanche  Vansant, 
after  her  sanguinary  encounter  with  Bryce  Williard, 
glided  from  the  private  passage-way  into  the 
library. 

Towner's  face  was  ashy  in  its  hue,  his  eyes  rest- 
less and  haunted,  his  hands  trembling  as  he  turned 
and  regarded  the  intruder. 

"  You  returned,  and  that  way?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Blanche,  "  the  passage  is  accessible 
from  the  deserted  store-room  back  of  the  stables, 
and  I  came  that  way. " 

"  Heavens!  what  is  that?" 

Towner  shrank  back  with  an  appalled  look  on 
his  face  as  he  uttered  the  startling  ejaculation. 

It  was  the  jeweled  dagger,  still  clutched  tightly 
in  the  woman's  hand. 


VICTIMS  OF  CRIME.  135 

She  regarded  her  accomplice  with  a  look  that 
was  impressive,  as  she  coolly  bundled  the  blood- 
stained weapon  in  her  handkerchief,  and  then, 
flinging  aside  Myrtle  Blake's  bonnet  and  shawl, 
placed  the  knife  in  the  pocket  of  her  dress. 

"  That  means  another  obstacle  removed  from  our 
path  by  a  sure,  quick  blow.  The  girl  —  what  have 
you  done  with  her?"  she  demanded  sharply. 

"  In  the  uppermost  room  of  the  laboratory. " 

"And  locked  in  safe?" 

"  Yes;  she  cannot  escape." 

"  Nor  attract  attention  from  the  outside?" 

"  The  only  light  in  the  apartment  comes  from  the 
side-windows  in  the  roof. " 

A  satisfied  gleam  shone  in  the  siren's  eyes. 

"  So  far,  good,"  she  remarked.  "  We  have  her 
in  our  power,  and  she  can  do  us  no  harm.  Courage! 
You  are  trembling  like  a  leaf.  Do  you  weaken  at 
the  very  moment  when  resolution  and  calmness 
will  win  the  day?" 

"The  knife!  —  you  have  not  told  me?"  gasped 
Towner. 

It  seemed  as  if,  formerly  the  cold,  cruel  plotter 
of  the  two,  had  changed  positions  with  his  accom- 
plice, whose  deliberate  wickedness  so  surpassed 
his  own  that  he  almost  shrank  from  her. 

"  The  knife?"  she  repeated,  with  a  low,  triumph- 
ant laugh.  "  It  removed  a  dangerous  enemy  — 
Bryce  Williard." 

"  Your  former  friend " 

"  And  accomplice;  exactly,"  assented  the  woman, 
calmly.  "  Listen!" 

She  related  what  had  occurred  since  she  left  the 
house,  the  man  listening  with  petrified  eyes  and 
pallid  face. 

He  started  up  anxiously  when  she  had  completed 
her  recital. 


136  VICTIMS   OF   CRIME. 

"  You  think  him  dead?"  he  murmured,  in  a 
choked  tone  of  voice. 

"  Yes,  the  blow  was  a  strong  one." 

"  We  must  not  leave  his  body  where  it  is." 

"  No,  secrete  it —  here  are  trap-doors  leading  to 
the  cellar  of  the  laboratory,  to  the  sewers  and  the 
river." 

"  Wait." 

Earle  Towner  seemed  to  regain  his  former 
courage  as  he  realized  the  possibility  of  a  discovery 
of  the  body,  and  left  the  apartment. 

When  he  returned  his  face  was  intensified  in  its 
pallor,  and  a  haunted  expression  was  in  his  eyes, 
but  his  nerves  were  firm,  and  his  lips  determined. 

"  You  have  removed  the  body?"  asked  Blanche. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  hoarsely.  "  We  are  tread- 
ing on  dangerous  ground,  Blanche.  I  shall  only 
feel  safe  now  when  the  fortune  is  ours,  and  we  can 
fly  to  some  foreign  country." 

"  To  accomplish  that  we  must  falter  at  no  crime," 
answered  the  siren.  These  two  people  we  have  met 
to-night  are  the  only  enemies  we  have  to  face. " 

"  Unless  they  may  have  confided  in  others," 

"It  is  not  likely." 

"  What  is  that?" 

Towner  started  nervously  as  a  loud,  quick  ring 
sounded  at  the  door. 

"  Crime  had  made  his  guilty  soul  shrink  at  any 
trifling  occurrence,  and  his  old  pallor  increased. 

"  Some  visitor,"  said  Blanche,  carelessly. 

A  servant  answered  the  summons.  There  was 
a  brief  parley,  audible  only  in  the  sound  of  low 
murmurs  to  the  listeners  in  the  library;  then  the 
front  door  was  closed,  and  hurried  footsteps  echoed 
down  the  corridor. 

Blanche  went  to  the  library  door  as  the  servant 
knocked  lightly. 


IN  DEADLY  PERIL.  137 

"  The  messenger  is  waiting  for  an  answer,"  she 
said,  as  she  handed  a  letter  to  her  mistress. 

Blanche  glanced  at  the  superscription  on  the 
envelope.  It  was  addressed  to  "  Mr.  Percy  Grey," 
but  she  opened  it,  notwithstanding. 

Towner,  watching  her  closely,  apprehensively, 
saw  her  lips  compress,  and  a  slight  anxiety  cross 
her  face. 

"  What  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"  Read  for  yourself.     It  is  from  Dr.  Marcy." 

"  At  the  private  asylum  where  he  is?" 

"Yes." 

Earle  Towner  perused  the  letter,  his  hands 
trembling,  his  eyes  expressing  a  new  concern  as  he 
did  so. 

"  Our  patient,  your  prisoner,"  the  missive  ran, 
"  who  claims  to  be  P.  G.,  was  seen,  recognized, 
and  conversed  with  a  visitor  to-day.  He  had  better 
be  removed.  Come  at  once," 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
IN  DEADLY  PERIL. 

SPLASH! 

The  sound  echoed  only  once  through  the  deserted 
store-room  in  the  laboratory  of  the  Towner  man- 
sion. 

Then  a  trap-door  went  down  with  a  bang  and  the 
retreating  footsteps  of  Earle  Towner  were  the  only 
sounds  that  echoed  on  the  silent  air. 

Thus  he  had  told  Blanche  Vansant  he  had  dis- 
posed of  the  second  enemy  of  the  night  to  their 
plots,  but  had  he  waited  he  would  have  been  less 
confident  of  the  success  of  their  mutual  murderous 
intentions. 


138  IN  DEADLY  PERIL. 

Suddenly  through  the  deserted  structure  an  ap- 
palling shriek  echoed.  It  emanated  from  the  upper 
story  of  the  building,  and  then  all  was  still. 

The  death  cry  or  scream  of  awakening  alarm 
from  the  lips  of  the  imperiled  Myrtle  Blake  —  it 
was  not  repeated,  but  a  moment  later  it  seemed  to 
find  a  hoarser  echo,  as  if  from  beneath  the  founda- 
tions of  the  structure  itself. 

.  A  struggle  beneath  that  fatal  trap-door  was  going 
on,  a  wild,  desperate  battle  for  life. 

The  victim  of  Blanche  Vansant's  deft  treachery, 
Bryce  Williard,  was  not  dead,  and  when  Earle 
Towner  flung  his  senseless  form  through  the  trap- 
door, contact  with  the  water  that  lay  beneath  it, 
that  of  some  abandoned  cistern  or  sewer,  revived 
him. 

Wounded  as  he  was,  weak  from  the  loss  of  blood, 
blinded  and  choked  with  the  water  into  which  he 
had  fallen,  a  wild  strength  seemed  to  come  to  his 
rescue. 

"  Only  for  revenge,"  he  panted,  "  only  to  repay 
this  last  act  of  treachery,  do  I  crave  for  life." 

All  his  fierce  hatred  of  Blanche  Vansant  flashed 
forth  like  a  flame.  It  seemed  to  overcome  physical 
pain  and  exhaustion.  He  seized  at  a  timber  pro- 
jecting from  the  floor  to  save  himself  from  sinking 
again  in  the  slime-covered  water,  and  groped  about 
to  find  some  way  of  regaining  his  liberty. 

Wearied,  bedraggled,  almost  dead,  a  few  minutes 
later  there  crept  from  beneath  the  structure,  by 
means  of  a  wooden  drain,  along  which  he  had  felt 
his  way,  the  miserable  creature  who  had  so  nar- 
rowly escaped  death. 

He  was  unable  to  reel  from  the  spot;  he  sank  to 
the  ground  at  every  step  he  sought  to  take. 

"  I  must  wait;  I  must  rest,"  he  muttered  grimly, 
through  his  clenched  teath.  "  Oh,  my  lady,  you 
shall  pay  dearly  for  this  night's  treachery." 


IN  DEADLY  PERIL.  139 

He  managed  to  crawl  into  the  same  large  apart- 
ment where  Blanche  Vansant  had  led  him.  There, 
in  a  kind  of  daze,  he  lay  for  over  an  hour. 

Nature  seemed  to  recruit  itself,  despite  the  ad- 
verse conditions  of  the  hour.  He  had  drank  the 
greater  portion  of  the  contents  of  a  phial  contain- 
ing some  powerful  stimulant  he  seemed  to  carry 
with  him  for  contingencies,  and  he  struggled  to  his 
feet,  and  muttered  hoarsely: 

"  I  will  have  the  wound  attended  to;  I  will  regain 
my  strength.  Then " 

In  the  darkness,  even,  he  shook  his  fist  at  the 
mansion  and  its  occupants,  but  paused  abruptly  as 
he  was  about  to  leave  the  place. 

A  sound  like  a  moan,  faint,  yet  distressful,  reached 
his  hearing.  He  paused  and  listened  intently.  It 
proceeded  from  the  direction  of  an  open  stairway, 
and  he  slowly  reached  this  and  again  stood  motion- 
less. 

The  sound  was  repeated.  Was  it  that  he  traced 
a  familiar  voice  even  in  the  faint  respiration  of  dis- 
tress, or  did  he  remember  what  Blanche  Vansant 
had  told  him? 

"  Myrtle  Blake!  "  he  gasped,  wildly.  "  That  fiend 
told  me  she  was  a  prisoner  in  their  hands.  Ah!  if 
it  is  only  so  —  if  I  could  but  find  her,  rescue  her, 
gain  her  confidence,  and  win  her  to  become  my 
wife.  Then  I  would  crush  these  others  —  hark !  the 
sound  again.  I  will  venture  up  the  stairs." 

They  terminated  in  a  corridor,  at  the  end  of 
which  his  hands  met  the  surface  of  a  heavy  iron- 
studded  door. 

From  beyond  that  as  he  stood  there,  distinctly 
there  fell  upon  his  hearing  a  gurgling  moan  like  the 
last  choking  gasp  of  a  dying  person. 

He  flung  himself  against  the  door  with  all  his 
strength.  It  did  not  even  shake  at  his  efforts. 

"  The   lock,"   he  muttered,   as  he  drew  several 


I4O  IN   DEADLY  PERIL. 

small  steel  objects  from  his  pocket.  "  I  can  pick 
that,  unless  it  is  a  double  one." 

His  proficiency  as  a  criminal  aided  him  in  his 
present  dilemma.  A  moment's  manipulation  re- 
leased the  lock. 

He  opened  the  door,  but  fell  back  as  if  the 
scorching  blast  of  a  simoon  had  crossed  his  face. 

A  vapor,  dense  and  overpowering,  issued  from 
the  room,  choking  and  blinding  him,  and  almost 
robbing  him  of  consciousness. 

He  did  not  know  that  Myrtle  Blake,  in  the  dark- 
ness of  her  prison,  when  she  recovered  conscious- 
ness from  the  swoon  in  the  library,  had,  in  groping 
about,  upset  some  bottles  containing  the  liquids  and 
gases  with  which  Samuel  Towner  experimented. 

Intuitively  divining  that  Myrtle  Blake  was  in  the 
room,  he  dashed  recklessly  forward,  at  last  stum- 
bled over  a  prostrate  form,  realized  with  delight 
that  it  was  a  woman,  and  bore  her  forth  with  diffi- 
culty from  that  noxious,  deadly  atmosphere. 

A  wild  joy  surged  within  Bryce  Williard's  heart 
as  he  gained  the  lower  floor  and  then  the  outer  air. 

The  dim  half-light  of  the  night  showed  the  white 
motionless  features  of  the  limp  form  he  bore  in  his 
arms. 

"  It  is  she;  it  is  Myrtle  Blake!  "  he  cried  fiercely. 
"  I  have  found  her,  I  have  saved  her.  Have  I 
strength  to  get  her  away  from  here?  Can  I  obtain 
a  carriage  to  convey  her  to  a  place  of  safety?  Ah! 
she  is  as  beautiful  to  my  sight  as  ever.  She  shall 
be  mine;  that  first,  then  the  fortune  which  may  be 
obtained  by  a  deep  plot  or  awarded  me  as  a  price 
for  silence. " 

He  carried  her  to  the  end  of  the  court,  laid  her 
within  the  shelter  of  a  stone  wall,  and  hurried  to 
the  street. 

Ten  minutes  later  he  returned  with  a  carriage 
and  lifted  her  into  it. 


ESCAPED.  141 

The  vehicle  threaded  various  thoroughfares,  and 
at  last  came  to  a  halt  at  an  isolated  structure  near 
the  river. 

Williard  dismissed  the  coachman  and  carried 
Myrtle  up  a  flight  of  stairs,  unlocked  the  door,  and 
laid  her  on  a  couch  in  a  meanly-furnished  apart- 
ment. 

He  lit  a  lamp,  drew  down  the  curtains,  and 
gulped  down  a  glass  of  liquor  from  a  bottle  on  the 
table. 

"They  cannot  trace  me  here  to  my  den,"  he 
murmured  with  satisfaction.  "  Love  and  fortune 
are  mine  if  I  play  my  cards  right. " 

He  paused  abruptly  as  he  glanced  at  Myrtle 
Blake. 

She  had  arisen  on  her  couch,  and  stood  staring 
at  him  with  dilated  eyes  and  pallid  face. 

"  Bryce  Williard!  "  she  gasped,  wildly  shrinking 
back  at  the  sight  of  this  new  enemy,  with  horror 
and  apprehension. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

ESCAPED ! 

DEEPENING  plots  and  complicated  motives  had 
assailed  the  tenure  of  safety  of  the  two  plotters  in 
the  Towner  mansion,  and  they  had  baffled  their  en- 
emies that  night,  only  to  be  confronted  by  a  new 
peril. 

"  I  must  go  at  once  to  Dr.  Marcy,"  said  Earle 
Towner.  "  Who  could  have  recognized  our  pris- 
oner? " 

"  Perhaps  some  casual  visitor  or  old  acquaint- 
ance." remarked  Blanche,  thoughtfully. 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  us,  then.  Dr.  Marcy 
would  not  have  written  did  he  not  know  that  dan- 
ger threatened. " 


1 42  ESCAPED. 

"  You  will  go  at  once,  then?  " 

"Yes." 

He  left  the  room  and  the  mansion  a  few  moments 
later.  He  did  not  order  the  carriage,  for  the  place 
he  was  going  to  was  one  which  he  always  visited 
secretly. 

A  street-car  took  Earle  Towner  to  the  limits  of 
the  city.  He  walked  half  a  mile  and  came  to  a 
walled  enclosure,  in  the  midst  of  which  stood  a 
large  frowning  mansion. 

There  were  iron  gates  in  front  of  the  structure, 
and  all  the  windows  at  the  sides  were  barred. 

Towner  rang  the  door-bell;  there  was  the  sound 
of  heavy  bolts  and  chains  unfastened,  and  a  stout, 
evil-faced  man  confronted  him. 

"  Ah!  it's  you,  Mr.  Towner?  " 

"  Yes,  Dr.  Marcy;  I  received  your  note. " 

"  Come  in.  I  was  anxious  over  the  affair,  and 
thought  it  best  to  inform  you  about  it,  "and  the 
proprietor  of  the  private  insane  asylum  led  the  way 
to  his  office  on  the  second  floor  of  the  house. 

"  You  wrote  me  that  your  patient  had  been  seen 
and  recognized,"  began  Towner. 

"  Yes;  it  occurred  to-day,  during  my  absence." 

"  Who  was  the  person?  " 

Dr.  Marcy  described  the  visitor,  a  man,  who, 
pretending  he  wished  to  confine  a  relative  in  the 
asylum,  had  gained  access  to  the  establishment  — 
had  seen  and  conversed  with  the  patient. 

"  It  is  Bryce  Williard,"  murmured  Towner.  "  He 
has  indeed  possessed  himself  of  our  secrets." 

Then,  aloud,  he  said,  as  he  became  apprehensive 
that  Williard  might  have  imparted  his  discovery  to 
some  friend  and  accomplice: 

"  What  do  you  intend  to  do!" 

"  I  think  it  best  to  remove  the  patient." 

"  Where?  " 

"  To  an  asylum  farther  away  from  the  city. " 


ESCAPED.  143 

"  He  will  be  safely  guarded  there?  " 

"  By  a  trusty  friend.  He  is  too  profitable  a 
patient  to  lose,"  replied  the  Doctor  slyly.  "  We 
will  transfer  him  to-night. " 

Some  money  passed  between  them,  and  Towner 
left  the  place,  satisfied  that  he  would  experience  no 
trouble  from  Williard's  discovery. 

It  was  an  hour  later  that  Dr.  Marcy  ordered  two 
attendants  to  get  a  wagon  ready  to  remove  a 
patient. 

A  few  minutes  later  another  attendant  ushered 
the  patient  in  question  into  the  doctor's  office. 

It  was  Percy  Grey. 

His  face  was  wofully  thin  and  pale,  his  eyes 
gleamed  with  the  hunted  light  of  a  man  who  had 
suffered  injustice  and  imprisonment. 

"  Am  I  to  be  set  free?  "  he  demanded,  huskily. 
"  Is  this  infamous  persecution  to  stop  at  last?  " 

"  Be  calm,  my  friend,"  spoke  the  doctor,  in 
smooth,  oily  tones. 

"  Calm!  "  cried  Percy  Grey,  wildly.  "  Do  you 
realize  what  I  have  suffered  for  the  past  year,  shut 
up  among  the  demented  minds  of  this  hell  upon 
earth?" 

"  Be  careful,  sir,"  warned  the  doctor,  angrily. 
"  My  institution  has  received  the  indorsement  of 
the  highest  medical  authorities." 

"  I  care  not.  It  is  outrageous  that  I,  a  sane 
man,  the  victim  of  a  vile  plot,  should  be  torn  from 
my  friends.  I,  Percy  Grey,  whose  words  you 
might  verify " 

"  They  all  say  that.  He  imagines  he  is  Percy 
Grey.  He's  getting  violent.  Call  in  the  attend- 
ants. Let  them  handcuff  him,  and  take  him  away, 
as  ordered,"  said  Dr.  Marcy. 

Percy  Grey  recoiled  as  he  discerned  the  heart- 
lessness  of  the  doctor.  As  he  did  so,  he  observed 


144  ESCAPED. 

a  horse  and  wagon  standing  unhitched  in  front  of 
the  asylum. 

It  was  the  very  vehicle  secured  to  convey  him 
away  to  a  new  and  safer  asylum. 

A  wild  thought  aroused  him,  as  he  observed  a 
possible  chance  for  escape. 

The  windows  of  the  doctor's  office  were  not 
barred.  Quick  as  light,  he  lifted  the  sash,  and, 
springing  to  the  sill,  dropped  through  space. 

Percy  Grey  was  free ! 

Dr.  Marcy  rushed  to  the  window.  H,e  saw  his 
patient  land  directly  on  the  wagon,  saw  the  horses 
start,  and  the  escaped  man  seize  the  lines  and  dis- 
appear. 

One  hour  later,  a  messenger,  breathless  and 
wearied,  rang  loudly  at  the  bell  of  the  Towner 
mansion. 

He  bore  a  letter  for  the  false  Percy  Grey, 
brief,  but  terrifying  to  the  man  to  whom  it  was 
directed. 

For  it  read: 

"  Our  patient,  your  prisoner,  who  claims  to  be 
P.  G. ,  has  escaped." 

Earle  Towner  reeled  where  he  stood,  as  the  words 
danced  before  his  vision. 

He  saw  the  mighty  fabric  of  fraud  he  had  reared 
so  carefully  topple  and  fall,  crushing  him  in  the 
ruins;  he  saw  his  cherished  plots  shattered  at  one 
blow. 

Percy  Grey  was  free,  and  that  liberty  meant  dis- 
aster tc  his  fondest  schemes  and  those  of  his  dan- 
gerous accomplice,  Blanche  Vansant. 


A  SUBTLE   SCHEMER.  145 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

A  SUBTLE  SCHEMER. 

IF  Myrtle  Blake  had  been  terrified  and  repelled 
by  the  dual  plotters  in  the  Towner  mansion,  she 
was  doubly  alarmed  as  her  waking  vison  took  Bryce 
Williard  within  its  scope. 

To  this  man  she  attributed  all  her  early  troubles, 
and  she  shrank  from  him  with  a  cry  of  horror  and 
dread. 

Evidently  he  read  the  quick  impulse  of  flight  in 
her  face,  for  he  glided  to  the  door,  turned  the 
key  in  the  lock,  and  thus  prevented  any  sudden  at- 
tempt at  escape. 

"  Wait!"  he  said,  lifting  his  hand  with  a  reassur- 
ing gesture,  to  quell  the  cry  for  help  that  arose  to 
her  lips.  "  I  am  your  friend " 

"  My  jailer,  rather,"  interrupted  Myrtle,  wildly. 
"  Why  have  you  brought  me  here?  I  will  cry  for 
help." 

"  And  doom  yourself  and  the  man  you  would 
save  to  peril  and  death,"  replied  Williard,  solemnly. 

"  You  seek  only  to  frighten  me.  You  are  carry- 
ing out  some  part  of  the  plot  of  that  woman, 
Blanche  Vansant,  your  accomplice." 

A  dark  scowl  came  over  Williard's   face. 

"  My  accomplice!  "  he  cried.  "My  bitterest 
enemy!  Think  you  I  would  have  saved  you  from 
the  death  she  meditated  for  you,  had  I  been  a  party 
to  her  plots?  No;  I  swear  to  you  that  all  my 
thoughts  and  energies  are  bent  only  to  balk  this 
woman  in  her  evil  designs." 

There  was  a  fervency  in  his  words  that  evidently 
impressed  his  auditor.  Myrtle  gazed  at  him  earn- 
estly, searchingly,  at  this  new  phase  of  the  case, 
forgetting  her  possible  peril.  He  did  not  quail  be- 
fore her  deep  glance. 

Desperate  10. 


!46  A   SUBTLE   SCHEMER. 

"  I  have  seemed  a  villain  to  you  in  the  past,"  he 
went  on.  "  I  was  one,  I  may  be  one  now;  but  I 
will  not  deceive  you  with  false  representations.  I 
have  but  two  objects  in  life;  the  one  is  to  avenge 
myself  for  the  wrong  that  woman  has  done  me,  the 
other " 

He  paused,  his  voice  grown  tremulous,  his  eyes 
devouring  her  with  passionate  gaze. 

"  The  other?  "  she  faltered,  mechanically. 

"  To  win  your  love." 

She  recoiled  with  a  look  of  abhorrence,  but 
started  as  he  went  on. 

"  To  win  you,  whose  life  I  just  saved." 

"Mine!" 

"  Yes,"  he  pursued,  rapidly;  "  from  a  death  pre- 
pared for  you  by  your  enemies,  Blanche  Vansant 
and  the  fraudulent  Percy  Grey." 

Bryce  Williard  had  noted  with  delight  that,  in- 
terested in  what  he  had  told  her^anxious  to  learn 
of  the  plots  against  her  and  of  the  man  whom  she 
loved,  Myrtle  Blake  forgot  her  past  abhorrence  of 
him  temporarily. 

Especially  at  hearing  him  speak  of  the  man  re- 
sembling Percy  Grey,  she  had  started  forward,  and, 
in  her  eagerness  and  excitement  abandoned  all  fear 
of  him. 

"  You  know  that?  "  she  cried.  "  He  is  not  Percy 
Grey  —  he  is  an  impostor?" 

"Yes." 

"  And  my  —  and  the  real  Percy  Grey?  " 

"Is  alive." 

"Oh,  thank  Heaven!  thank  Heaven!"  cried 
Myrtle,  tumultuously,  her  hands  clasped,  her  eyes 
filling  with  joy  and  relief.  "  You  know  where  he 
is;  you  will  lead  me  to  him?  " 

She  paused  abruptly,  and  retreated  slowly.  A 
change  had  suddenly  come  over  Williard's  face. 
The  old  jealousy  and  hatred  of  Percy  Grey  was 


A   SUBTLE  SCHEMER.  147 

there;  even  the  old  subtlety  and  avarice  flashed  up 
in  his  eyes. 

For  the  moment  he  had  forgotten  self,  but  now 
personal  interest  became  uppermost  again. 

"  I  lead  you  to  Percy  Grey!  "  he  repeated,  coldly. 
"  You  forget " 

"  Aye,  I  do  forget  myself  for  allowing  you  to  de- 
ceive me;  you,  whose  past  villainy  should  have 
warned  me  that  I  have  no  mercy  to  expect  at  your 
hands." 

"  Listen  and  know  all  the  truth,  then,  Myrtle 
Blake,"  spoke  the  man.  "  Alone  you  are  unable 
to  cope  with  the  plots  of  Blanche  Vansant  and  Earle 
Towner.  Alone  you  can  never  find  Percy  Grey. 
I  can  help  you.  I  will  help  you,  but  I  ask  a  reward 
for  my  labors.  You  must  become  my  wife." 

She  stood  staring  at  him  in  blank  amazement 
and  horror;  she  did  not  speak;  she  did  not  even 
shrink  from  him  now. 

Was  it  possible  that  Bryce  Williard,  the  very  in- 
stigator, originally,  of  the  plot  to  make  her  wed 
him  the  night  she  was  believed  to  be  drowned,  did 
not  know  of  her  marriage  to  Percy  Grey? 

Or  was  he  playing  a  game  so  deep  that  his  affect- 
ation of  innocence  seemed  sincere.  He  did  not 
wait  for  her  to  speak,  but  went  on  volubly: 

"  I  have  the  proofs  that  will  send  Earle  Towner 
to  prison,  and  unmask  and  completely  baffle  your 
bitter  enemy  and  rival,  Blanche  Vansant.  I  can 
penetrate  to  Percy  Grey's  prison  and  release  him. 
You  love  him.  You  hate  me.  I  am  aware  of  this. 
Still  I  say,  become  my  wife,  and  I  will  do  all  these 
things  I  promise." 

"  Are  you  mad?  "  cried  Myrtle,  suddenly  aroused. 
"  Think  you  I  forget  the  past?  " 

"Stop!"  cried  the  man,  peremptorily.  "You 
have  heard  my  proposition.  If  Percy  Grey  is 
saved,  it  must  be  at  once.  If  you  would  regain 


148  A   SUBTLE   SCHEMER. 

your  liberty,  you  must  agree  to  become  my  wife 
now.  You  think  this  all  covers  a  new  plot  on  my 
part.  Perhaps,  but  it  is  your  only  alternative. 
You  are  my  prisoner.  You  cannot  leave  this 
place  until  I  will  it.  Your  enemies,  within  a  day, 
may  secure  a  fortune  not  their  own  and  disappear. 
A  night's  delay  of  aid  may  mean  death  to  Percy 
Grey.  I  care  not  for  all  this,  I  care  only  for  you. 
Wed  me,  and  I  am  your  slave,  and  you  shall  direct 
the  battle  against  your  enemies,  the  rescue  of  your 
friends;  refuse,  and  you  shall  never  escape;  you 
shall  be  my  wife,  even  if  by  force." 

His  rapid,  determined  words  revealed  completely 
the  situation  of  affairs  to  Myrtle.  She  paled  as  she 
realized  his  power  and  read  the  confidence  of  sin- 
cerity in  his  face. 

No  matter  how  she  shrank  with  abhorrence  from 
this  man,  when  he  spoke  of  Percy  Grey  her  heart 
gave  one  great  throb  of  suspense. 

He  knew  where  he  was;  he,  Bryce  Williard, 
affirmed  that  her  husband  was  a  prisoner  and  in 
peril  of  his  life.  She  could  learn  where;  she  could 
save  him  —  but  at  a  sacrifice  —  she  must  wed  him. 

She  saw  herself  in  the  net  that  held  her  on  all 
sides.  She  saw  that  subtlety  and  deceit  were 
successful  in  the  hands  of  her  enemies.  In  her  ter- 
rible distress,  why  not  employ  them  in  return,  to 
baffle  the  evil  plots  of  those  foes. 

Evidently  Bryce  Williard  did  not  know  of  her 
marriage  to  Percy  Grey.  Apparently  he  assumed 
her  interest  in  him  to  be  only  the  love  of  an  affianced 
wife  or  devoted  friend. 

Myrtle  Blake  determined  that  she  would  not  un- 
deceive him.  If  he  spoke  truly  of  Percy  Grey's 
danger,  she  must  learn  more  of  its  details  at  all 
hazards.  She  would,  if  necessary,  go  through  the 
ceremony  of  marriage  with  Williard,  provided  he 
would  tell  her  of  Percy,  and  then  would  hasten  to 


A  SUBTLE  SCHEMER.  149 

his  aid.  If  Williard  should  ever  claim  her  as  his 
wife,  she  would  reveal  the  truth  that  the  last  cere- 
mony was  illegal.  If  the  law  ever  held  her  account- 
able for  the  act,  she  would  claim  that  she  acted  on 
compulsion. 

"  My  way  is  clear,"  she  murmured,  thoughtfully. 
"  No  matter  how  I  shrink  from  this  man,  I  must 
save  Percy  Grey.  I  will  award  him  plot  for  plot, 
deceit  for  deceit." 

Evidently  he  took  her  silence  for  hesitancy,  and 
regarded  her  eagerly,  impatiently. 

"  Come,"  he  said  finally,  "  your  answer.  I  offer 
to  set  Percy  Grey  free,  to  restore  him  to  liberty, 
and  to  crush  your  enemies  at  the  mansion  you 
visited  to-night.  I  offer  to  be  a  free  and  indulgent 
husband  to  you  —  to  lift  you  from  poverty  to  afflu- 
ence, but  you  must  become  my  wife." 

Myrtle  had  risen  to  her  feet,  and  faced  him  un- 
flinchingly now. 

"  You  are  in  earnest?  "  she  asked,  her  eyes  never 
leaving  his  face. 

"Yes." 

"  And  you  understand  that  I  can  never  love  you, 
that  only  in  name  would  I  be  your  wife;  that  this 
act  of  compulsion  would  alone  make  me  shrink  the 
more  from  you?  " 

He  frowned,  but  nodded  assent. 

"  If  I  wed  you,  do  you  swear  to  tell  me  at  once 
where  Percy  Grey  is — to  lead  me  to  him?  " 

"  I  swear  it,"  cried  Williard,  eagerly.  "  He  shall 
even  be  restored  to  his  rightful  fortune." 

"  And  I  am  free  to  leave  you  to  go  where  I  will? 
You  accept  me  only  in  name  as  your  wife?  You 
only  wish  to  wed  me,  to  consummate  some  plot  of 
avarice  or  revenge  on  your  enemies?  " 

"  Yes,  yes;  I  have  told  you,"  ejaculated  Williard, 
secretly  enraged  at  her  repugnance  for  him,  only 


ISO  A  TRAGIC   DENOUEMENT. 

urging  forward  the  accomplishment  of  the  deep 
design  he  had  formed. 

"  I  agree  then  to  wed  you.  Do  not  delay;  do 
not  deceive  yourself,  either.  For  some  mysterious 
purpose  you  wish  to  marry  me.  I  care  not,  so  that 
it  leaves  me  free  to  hasten  at  once  to  Percy  Grey's 
rescue." 

A  deep,  scheming  light  shone  in  Williard's  eyes, 
as  he  smiled  triumphantly. 

"  I  will  return  in  an  hour,"  he  said,  leaving  the 
apartment,  and  locking  the  door  after  him.  "  In 
an  hour  she  will  be  my  wife,"  he  murmured,  exult- 
antly, as  he  reached  the  street  below.  "  She  thinks 
she  is  deceiving  me  —  she  thinks  me  in  ignorance 
of  the  past.  When  the  truth  comes  out  there  will 
be  a  scene;  but  fast  and  sure,  she  can  not  break  the 
bonds  which  make  her  Mrs.  Bryce  Williardr" 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A  TRAGIC  DENOUEMENT 

MYRTLE  BLAKE  sank  back  with  a  low  cry  of  dis- 
tress and  weariness  as  she  found  herself  once  more 
alone,  and  tried  to  think  out  coherently  the  problem 
that  perplexed  her  mind  —  the  motive  Bryce  Wil- 
liard  had  in  forcing  her  to  a  marriage. 

"  It  must  be  that  some  secret  of  my  father's  is 
in  his  possession — 'that  he  hopes  to  carry  some 
point  of  importance  by  securing  control  of  my 
actions.  I  will  baffle  him;  but  even  if  it  were  really 
necessary  to  link  my  fate  to  his  to  save  Percy  Grey, 
I  would  do  it." 

It  was  the  thought  uppermost  in  her  mind,  and 
she  was  tortured  with  uncertainty  and  suspense  as 
she  recalled  what  Williard  had  affirmed  of  her  hus- 
band's deadly  peril. 


A  TRAGIC  DENOUEMENT.  I$I 

For  the  time  being  she  forgot  Blanche  Vansant. 
the  false  heir  at  the  Towner  mansion.  If  she  could 
only  find  Percy  and  restore  him  to  liberty,  the 
unmasking  and  punishment  of  these  bold  schemers 
would  follow. 

She  counted  the  silent,  dreary  moments  after 
Williard's  departure.  If  womanly  pride  and  honor 
shrank  from  the  ordeal  she  had  accepted,  she  re- 
membered the  issues  at  stake,  and  steeled  her  heart 
to  the  deceit  necessary  to  save  a  loved  one's  life. 

"  I  will  not  shrink  or  falter,"  she  whispered  to 
herself.  "I  will  carry  through  the  fraud.  He  will 
lead  me  to  Percy  Grey.  I  will  save  him  and  tell 
him  all,  and  then  inform  Bryce  Williard  that  the 
ceremony  was  a  deception  —  that  I  am  Percy  Grey's 
wife.  He  will  be  powerless  to  injure  me  then,  and, 
in  reparation  for  my  deceit,  bad  as  it  is,  I  will  urge 
Percy  to  reward  him  for  saving  my  life  and  aiding 
in  his  rescue." 

It  was  thus  in  her  guileless  mind,  little  knowing 
the  depths  of  Williard's  true  plots,  that  she  planned 
out  her  course.  She  was  still  thinking  of  it  when 
she  heard  steps  outside  the  door. 

"  Will  you  wait  for  a  moment,  please,  until  I 
announce  our  coming  to  the  lady?  "  she  heard  Wil- 
liard ask  a  companion  in  the  hall  outside. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  a  low  voice. 

Williard  entered  the  room  and  came  to  where 
Myrtle  had  risen  to  her  feet,  and,  her  face  slightly 
pale,  stood  awaiting  him. 

"  You  understand,"  he  said,  in  rapid,  but  sub- 
dued tones,  "  I  have  brought  a  clergyman.  You 
will  not  recede  from  your  promise  to  make  no  scene 
before  him?  " 

He  sought  to  eagerly  take  her  hand,  but  she 
shrank  and  shrivered  at  the  touch. 

"  If  you  hope  to  escape  by  appealing  to  the 
stranger  I  have  brought,  and  telling  all,  you  will 


152  A  TRAGIC  DENOUEMENT. 

be  disappointed,"  remarked  Williard  suspiciously, 
frowningly. 

"  I  have  no  such  thought,"  replied  Myrtle,  calmly. 

"  And  you  will  go  through  with  the  ceremony?  " 

"  As  I  agreed,  yes;  but  you  must  do  as  you  have 
promised." 

"  About  Percy  Grey?  " 

"Yes." 

"  I  swear  it!  " 

"He  shall  be  released?" 

"  Within  an  hour  after  you  are  my  wife." 

The  words  grated  harshly  on  Myrtle's  hearing, 
but  she  repressed  any  expression  of  emotion  except 
to  say,  in  a  tone  strangely  cold  and  determined: 

"  If  you  deceive  me  in  this,  you  will  regret  it. 
Persecution  and  suffering  have  made  me  desperate. 
Delude  me  this  time  and  I  swear  to  give  my 
life  over  to  but  one  thought  —  of  avenging  your 
perfidy." 

Williard  moved  restlessly,  uneasily,  at  the  sud- 
den, vengeful  flash  in  Myrtle's  eyes,  but  said  im- 
patiently: 

"  I  will  keep  my  word.  You  are  ready  for  the 
ceremony?" 

"Yes." 

Williard  went  to  the  door.  A  clerical-looking 
individual  entered  the  room  a  moment  later.  Myrtle 
did  not  even  notice  him.  Her  brain  in  a  whirl, 
she  was  only  dimly  conscious  that  he  asked  her  if 
she  was  wedding  her  companion  of  her  own  will, 
and  then  the  marriage  ceremony  was  hastily  gone 
through. 

It  revived  that  other  hurried  marriage  at  the  riv- 
erside so  vividly  that  she  could  scarcely  control  her 
emotions.  The  clergyman  spoke  a  few  formal  words 
of  congratulation  and  then  left  the  room. 

"  What  a  mockery,"  murmured  Myrtle,  in  a  hoi- 


A  TRAGIC  DENOUEMENT.  I  S3 

low  tone  of  voice.  "  Oh,  Percy,  Percy!  will  it  save 
you?" 

The  door  was  closed  and  locked.  She  started  as 
Bryce  Williard  came  to  her  side. 

"  You  are  my  wife  at  last!  " 

Utter  triumph  was  in  his  tones  as  he  spoke  the 
words.  His  evil  face  glowed  down  upon  her  with 
an  expression  that  frightened  her. 

"  Yes,"  she  gasped,  tremulously,  shrinking  from 
him,  "  I  have  done  as  I  promised.  It  is  for  you  to 
fulfill  your  agreement." 

"  You  mean ?  "  he  insinuated,  coolly. 

"  To  restore  Percy  Grey  to  liberty. 

"I  will  not  falter  in  that  promise.  Listen,  Myr- 
tle. I  hate  this  man  jealously,  madly.  To  make 
him  free  means  to  give  him  the  power  to  regain  a 
fortune  which,  by  a  little  scheming,  I  myself  might 
secure  in  part.  For  your  sake,  however,  I  disdain 
the  golden  bribe  to  silence.  He  shall  be  free." 

"When?  "cried  Myrtle,  impatient  at  Williard's 
deliberate  manner  and  delay. 

"This  night — this  hour." 

"  Then  lead  me  to  him  — — " 

Williard  interrupted  her  with  a  mocking  laugh 
that  froze  her  confidence  in  him  to  agonizing  dis- 
trust and  suspense. 

"  Do  you  imagine  I  will  do  that?  "  he  demanded. 
"  Send  you,  my  wife,  to  a  rival?  No!  " 

"  But  you  promised " 

"  To  set  him  free.  Yes,  and  I  will  do  so,  but 
you  must  have  no  hand  in  it." 

A  low,  disappointed  moan  broke  involuntarily 
from  Myrtle's  lips,  and  she  sank  to  a  chair,  pale 
and  trembling. 

"You  have  deceived  me!  You  have  broken 
your  promise!"  she  cried. 

"  No;  you  agreed  to  become  my  wife  if  I  set 
Percy  Grey  free.  I  will  do  so.  Remain  here  until 


154  A   TRAGIC  DENOUEMENT. 

I  return,  and  I  will  prove  that  I  have  done  as  I 
agreed." 

"  Remain  here?" 

"  Certainly.  Would  you  run  after  Grey  when 
you  are  my  wife?  No,  no.  There  is  no  scheme 
under  my  wedding  you,  Myrtle  Blake.  It  was  pure 
love.  For  its  sake  I  abandon  wealth  and  vengeance. 
You  are  mine,  and  for  your  happiness  I  will  give 
up  all  my  plans  for  a  fortune  and  revenge. " 

Myrtle's  fair  face  had  become  deadly  pale.  This 
man  was  in  earnest;  his  manner  proved  it. 

"  My  life  linked  to  yours!  "  she  choked  out.  "  It 
would  be  worse  than  death.  Never!  I  went  through 
the  ceremony,  supposing  some  scheme  of  gain  was 
beneath  it,  but  to  be  your  wife " 

Her  words  enraged  Williard  wildly. 

"  You  are  my  wife,"  he  cried  angrily.  "  As  such 
I  shall  exact  obedience  of  you.  Break  the  bands 
if  you  can  or  dare." 

"  I  can,  I  dare,  I  do!  Villain,  I  read  the  truth 
in  your  false  face.  Unfaithful  in  one  promise,  you 
are  so  in  all.  You  have  no  thought  of  releasing 
Percy  Grey.  It  is  all  a  fraud  and  deception.  I  re- 
scind every  promise  made.  I  distrust  and  defy 
you,  and  I  alone  will  save  the  man  I  love." 

She  was  fully  aroused  at  last,  and  springing  to 
her  feet  she  confronted  Williard  with  flashing  eyes 
and  majestic  mein. 

"You  cannot,"  he  hissed,  his  eyes  lurid  with 
anger.  "  You  are  my  legally-wedded  wife." 

"  I  am  not.  The  ceremony  just  concluded  was 
a  mockery.  I  gave  you  deceit  for  deceit. " 

"  Be  careful,  you  know  not " 

"You  do  not  know!"  cried  Myrtle,  spiritedly. 
"  I  am  not  your  wife,  because " 

She  paused  to  note  the  expected  crushing  effect 
of  her  startling  words  on  Williard. 

"  Because  I  am  already  a  married  woman;  because 


A  TRAGIC  DENOUEMENT.  155 

I  am 'the  wife  of  Percy  Grey,"  she  concluded,  tu- 
multuously. 

"Indeed!  " 

Williard's  tones  were  sneering.  To  Myrtle's  sur- 
prise her  announcement  did  not  move  him  in  the 
least. 

"  Yes,"  she  cried.  "  The  night  I  fled  from  you 
in  Chicago  I  was  wedded  to  him." 

A  harsh  laugh  burst  from  Williard's  lips. 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  he  said  slowly,  deliberately. 
"  You  are  not  Percy  Grey's  wife.  You  were  never 
married  to  him." 

A  vague  dread  oppressed  Myrtle's  heart  as  she 
noticed  the  confident  expression  in  Bryce  Williard's 
face. 

"  I  expected  this, "he  went  on,  coolly.  "  I  plotted 
on  it.  I  knew  you  believed  me  in  ignorance  of 
your  supposed  marriage.  Know  then  that  the 
ceremony  of  this  evening  is  binding  and  legal,  and 
that  marriage  with  Percy  Grey  a  farce  and  mock- 
ery." 

"  I  do  not  believe  you,  "  gasped  Myrtle. 

"  It  is  true.  I  never  intended  to  marry  you  that 
night  at  the  riverside.  The  man  who  performed 
the  ceremony  between  yourself  and  Percy  Grey 
was  no  clergyman  at  all. " 

"  Merciful  heavens!  "  moaned  Myrtle  wildly,  the 
truth  dawning  upon  her  mind  at  last. 

"  He  was  a  hireling  of  my  own,  an  impostor. 
Percy  Grey  was  never  your  husband,  and  you  are 
now  my  wife,  mine  alone." 

His  triumphant  features  bent  near  to  her  own 
with  malignant  satisfaction  as  he  prononuced  her 
doom. 

"  Villain,  assassin,  perjurer!  "  shrieked  Myrtle,  as 
she  beat  back  his  face  and  sprang  to  the  window. 
"  I  would  die  ere  I  acknowledge  you  as  my  hus- 
band. Help!  help!  help!" 


156  CLOSING  IN. 

She  had  dashed  through  a  window  which  opened 
upon  a  frail  balcony.  Her  wild  cries  filled  the  dark 
void  before  her,  her  frantic  gaze  saw  no  escape  in 
the  darkly  gleaming  waters  of  the  river  rolling 
placidly  below. 

Williard,  alarmed  and  excited,  had  sprang  upon 
the  balcony,  and,  seizing  her  hands,  endeavored  to 
drag  her  back  into  the  room  to  stifle  her  cries. 

Struggling  wildly,  the  balcony  creaked  omin- 
ously beneath  their  weight.  She  pushed  him  back 
suddenly.  The  rail  gave  way. 

Then  one  awful  cry  of  horror  broke  from  Myrtle 
Blake's  lips  as  she  saw  Bryce  Williard's  form  go  hurt- 
ling through  the  inky  void  into  the  rushing  waters 
sheer  fifty  feet  below. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

CLOSING  IN. 

UPON  the  afternoon  of  the  day  succeeding  the 
appearance  of  Myrtle  Blake  at  theTowner  mansion, 
that  fashionable  residence  was  the  scene  of  a  series 
of  occurrences  which,  culminating  in  a  dramatic 
denouement  ere  the  sun  again  arose,  indicated 
that  the  schemes  of  the  two  arch-plotters,  Blanche 
Vansant  and  Earle  Towner,  were  nearing  an  end. 

The  schemers  had  fully  taken  the  alarm  when 
the  intelligence  arrived  of  the  escape  of  Percy 
Grey  from  the  private  insane  asylum. 

"  We  must  lose  no  time,"  said  Earle  Towner, 
when  the  first  confusion  of  fright  had  passed. 
"  Within  twenty-four  hours  we  must  fly." 

"  You  will  wait  that  long  —  you  think  it  will  be 
safe?  "  inquired  Blanche,  anxiously. 

"  Yes.  He  has  no  means  of  knowing  our  where- 
abouts. He  doubtlessly  will  return  at  once  to 


CLOSING  IN.  157 

Chicago,  for  he  has  no  knowledge  of  my  imposture. 
There,  learning  that  he  is  supposed  to  be  here  in 
Cincinnati,  the  heir  of  Samuel  Towner,  he  will 
readily  comprehend  the  true  condition  of  affairs. " 

"And  then?" 

"  A  complaint  to  the  police  will  end  our  schemes, 
and  our  days  of  liberty  alike.  I  shall  hasten  my 
arrangements  for  securing  all  the  ready  money  pos- 
sible to-day." 

"  How?  " 

"  By  a  loan.  We  dare  not  wait  for  the  sale  I 
have  ordered.  To-night  we  will  fly,  for  the  ex- 
plosion will  occur  soon." 

"  You  seem  to  have  forgotten  one  thing,"  re- 
marked Blanche  uneasily. 

"  What  is  that?" 

"  That  Percy  Grey  may  come  at  once  to  this 
house,  the  former  home  of  his  uncle." 

Towner  started,  but  said,  impatiently: 

"  That  is  not  probable.  However,  we  must  not 
delay  in  our  flight. "  And  leaving  the  house,  he 
did  not  return  until  late  in  the  afternoon. 

He  was  greeted  with  a  new  surprise  by  Blanche 
Vansant  when  he  entered  the  library.  She  in- 
formed him  that  she  had  visited  the  laboratory, 
and  had  found  their  prisoner,  Myrtle  Blake,  gone. 

For  over  an  hour  the  discovery  proved  a  source 
of  dread  uneasiness  to  Towner.  They  could  only 
theorize  that  Myrtle  had  broken  open  the  door  of 
the  room  in  which  she  had  been  imprisoned  and 
had  escaped,  but  the  contingency  of  her  visiting 
the  police,  and  imparting  her  knowledge  of  Town- 
er and  his  imposture,  frightened  them. 

"  Do  not  lose  a  moment  of  time,"  he  said,  ex- 
citedly, to  his  companion.  "  I  will  order  the  car- 
riage ready,  and  in  an  hour  we  will  leave  the  place 
for  the  first  train  from  the  city. " 

"  But  the  money?  " 


I  $8  CLOSING  IN. 

"  Will  be  here  shortly.  I  have  borrowed  every 
dollar  I  could,  and  the  broker  agreed  to  have  it 
here  by  this  time.  Better  that  than  to  remain  and 
be  unmasked  and  lose  all.  Hasten,  Blanche.  I 
feel  that  we  are  not  safe." 

Both  of  the  plotters  were  in  a  feverish  state  of 
apprehension  for  the  next  half  hour.  Towner 
started  as  the  door-bell  rang,  but  answered  it 
himself. 

A  boy  handed  him  a  package  and  a  letter,  and 
Towner  breathed  a  fervent  sigh  of  relief  as  he 
closed  the  door  and  hastened  to  the  library. 

It  was  getting  quite  dark  and  he  lighted  the  gas, 
and,  with  an  eager  gleam  in  his  eye,  undid  the 
parcel  the  messenger  boy  had  just  brought. 

"  The  money  from  the  broker,"  he  muttered,  in 
a  satisfied  tone,  as  he  revealed  a  package  of  bills 
of  large  denomination.  "  Enough  to  live  royally 
for  a  time,  at  least.  And  now  to  fly  with  the 
woman  whose  courage  and  plotting  against  Percy 
Grey  have  enabled  me  to  secure  the  money. " 

He  tore  open  the  letter,  which  inclosed  a  blank 
receipt  for  the  package,  and  then,  leaving  both  it 
and  the  money  on  the  table,  hurried  from  the  apart- 
ment to  hasten  Blanche  in  her  arrangements  for  an 
immediate  departure. 

He  had  not  noticed  a  rustling  of  the  curtains  of 
an  alcove,  or  smoking-room,  that  connected  with 
the  library.  He  did  not  know  that,  added  to  the 
already  manifold  complications  of  the  hour,  there 
was  a  new  source  of  fear  represented  by  the  unseen 
presence  in  the  adjoining  room. 

He  and  Blanche,  both  ready  to  leave  the 
house,  returned  to  the  library  a  few  moments 
later. 

She  was  dressed  as  if  for  a  journey,  and  carried  a 
small  traveling  satchel  in  her  hand. 

"  The  carriage   is  waiting   in   the   court  for  us," 


CLOSING  IN.  I  $9 

spoke  Towner.     "  Here,  put  the  money  in  a   safe 
place  - 

He  paused  a  moment,  uttered  a  startling  cry, 
and  then  stared  blankly  at  the  table  before  him. 

"  The  money!  "  he  gasped;  "  it  is  gone!" 

"  Gone!  "  cried  Blanche,  wildly;  "  what  do  you 
mean?  " 

"  I  left  it  on  the  table  there,  only  a  minute 
since. " 

And  Towner  began  to  search  Lir  it,  while  Blanche, 
nettled  at  the  delay,  cried: 

Some  servant  has  taken  it.  Are  you  mad, 
to  leave  a  fortune  lying  around  loose  for  the  first 
careless  thief  to  pick  up?  " 

Blanche  crossed  to  the  curtains  of  the  alcove,  as 
she  imagined  she  heard  a  suspicious  sound,  and, 
sweeping  them  aside,  peered  beyond  them. 

But,  if  any  one  had  been  hiding  there,  no  signs 
of  such  espionage  were  now  apparent. 

A  terrible  cry  from  Towner  caused  her  to  hasten 
again  to  his  side.  In  a  dazed,  helpless  manner,  he 
stood  staring  at  a  written  paper  in  his  hand. 

It  was  one  he  had  just  picked  up  from  the  table, 
the  unsigned  receipt  that  had  come  with  the 
money. 

It  was  signed  now,  however.  On  the  bottom 
line,  the  ink  scarcely  dry,  was  a  name  —  Percy 
Grey! 

"Great  heavens!  what  does  this  mean?"  he 
gasped  forth,  finally.  "  I  did  not  sign  that  paper. 
I  see  it  all.  He  has  been  here  —  he  has  seen  the 
money.  We  are  lost!  " 

A  sickening  apprehension  came  into  Blanche 
Vansant's  dark  face,  but  she  said,  with  affected 
incredulity: 

"Impossible!" 

"  The  evidence  — his  handwriting!  "said  Towner. 
"  He  has  found  his  way  to  the  hous^.  He  knows 


I6O  FACE   TO   FACE. 

all  its  secret  passages.  He  has  been  watching  us, 
and  at  last  has  balked  our  schemes." 

"  He  could  have  come  but  one  way  —  the  corri- 
dor from  the  laboratory,"  said  Blanche; "  search, 
hasten;  you  may  find  him  yet!  " 

"  No,  no!  We  must  not  delay.  The  police  may 
have  been  already  informed.  Let  us  fly  with  what 
jewels  and  money  we  have,  ere  we  are  arrested  and 
it  is  too  late." 

He  caught  her  arm  excitedly,  to  hasten  her  to  the 
court  and  the  waiting  carriage. 

He  fell  back,  as  a  woman's  form  appeared  at  the 
door  leading  from  the  room. 

"  It  is  too  late!  "  spoke  the  intruder.  "  The  po- 
lice have  been  notified,  and  fate  has  overtaken  all 
your  evil  schemes  at  last!  " 

A  dead  pall  of  silence  fell  over  the  amazed  plot- 
ters, as  they  gazed  at  the  new-comer. 

For  it  was  Myrtle  Blake! 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

FACE    TO    FACE. 

SHE  had  closed  the  door  after  her,  and  advanced 
into  the  library  with  a  firm  step  and  a  confident 
manner,  that  made  the  amazed  plotters  tremble,  as 
they  read  a  bold  determination,  a  hidden  menace 
in  her  words. 

"  Yes,  it  is  I,"  spoke  Myrtle;  "  no  longer  your 
helpless  victim;  no  more  the  meek,  frightened  child 
I  was,  but  an  avenger,  EarleTowner.  I  know  you 
now,  Blanche  Vansant;  the  wicked  scheme  of  im- 
posture, that  has  placed  Percy  Grey  in  an  insane 
asylum,  is  known  to  me  at  last." 

She  had  cast  aside  her  veil,  and  confronted  them 
without  hesitation  or  fear.  Neither  spoke.  In  the 


FACE   TO    FACE.  l6l 

light  of  the  fast-occurring  episodes  of  the  past  few 
hours,  they  realized  that,  trembling  on  the  brink  of 
discovery,  a  crisis  had  come. 

"  You  sought  to  kill  me  yesterday,"  again  spoke 
Myrtle;  "  I  escaped.  The  man  who  rescued  me 
was  Bryce  Williard.  From  his  lips,  I  learned  of 
Percy  Grey.  I  came  hither;  I  stole  my  way  into 
this  mansion.  I  am  here  to  defeat  your  carefully- 
formed  schemes.  You  hoped  to  fly  ere  your 
crimes  were  discovered.  Again  I  say,  you  are  too 
late." 

She  must  have  nerved  herself  desperately  in  the 
course  she  was  pursuing,  for  neither  the  hate-filled 
glance  of  Blanche  Vansant,  nor  the  murderous, 
baffled  light  in  Towner's  eyes  served  to  intimidate 
her. 

Towner's  eyes,  aside  from  a  hunted,  frightened 
expression,  showed  a  quick,  calculating  light.  The 
woman  before  him  read  his  thoughts,  as  he  glanced 
beyond  her,  as  if  expecting  a  companion;  as  if  he 
supposed,  from  her  bold  manner,  that  she  had  as- 
sistance, if  required,  near  at  hand. 

"  I  am  alone,"  she  said,  "  but  I  do  not  fear  you. 
In  your  power,  as  you  may  suppose,  I  am  more 
dangerous  to  your  plans  than  if  a  dozen  friends 
surrounded  me.  You  were  about  to  fly.  There  is 
your  way.  Leave  this  mansion,  if  you  dare,  until 
I  give  you  permission." 

Blanche  Vansant  glanced  at  Myrtle,  but  paled 
perceptibly.  Towner,  vaguely  terrified  at  her  sud- 
den threats,  was  mute. 

"  My  hour  of  triumph  has  come,"  continued 
Myrtle  steadily.  "  Bryce  Williard  is  dead,  but  he 
told  me  enough  to  warn  me  how  to  act.  To-day  I 
have  laid  my  plans  for  your  punishment.  When 
you  leave  this  mansion  an  officer  of  the  law  will 
arrest  you,  unless  I  order  otherwise.  Should  you 
again  attempt  to  kill  me,  believe  me,  the  trusty 

Desperate  11. 


162  FACE  TO   FACE. 

aids  I  have  secured  will  discover  your  crime  within 
an  hour.  You  doubt  me  —  you  believe  you  are 
too  powerful  to  be  foiled.  Come,  I  will  prove  my 
words." 

She  caught  Earle  Towner  by  the  arm  and  forced 
him  to  follow  her  from  the  library  into  the  drawing- 
rooms. 

She  paused  at  the  front  windows  and  pointed  out 
upon  the  street. 

"  Look!  "  she  cried. 

Blanche  Vansant,  peering  over  Towner's  shoulder, 
echoed  his  cry  of  alarm. 

Two  men  stood  near  the  edge  of  the  curb,  their 
glance  resting  on  the  mansion. 

"  Detectives!  "  gasped  Towner,  in  an  affrighted 
tone. 

"  Yes/'  responded  Myrtle.  "  I  have  taken  every 
safeguard  to  prevent  your  escape.  I  have  told 
enough  of  the  truth  to  the  officers  of  the  law  to 
place  you  in  the  bonds  of  suspicion,  at  least.  It 
rests  with  you,  Earle  Towner,  whether  I  shall  fully 
reveal  your  crimes  and  bring  to  you  a  merited 
punishment  or  not.  This  game  is  now  in  my 
hands.  I  have  risked  all,  to  gain  or  lose  all.  I 
care  not  for  your  ill-gotten  wealth  ;  I  care  not  for 
your  escape  and  that  of  your  guilty  partner  in 
crime,  but  I  demand  one  thing." 

"  And  that  is?"  inquired  Towner,  in  a  voice 
choked  with  mingled  rage  and  fear. 

"  That  Percy  Grey  be  released  from  the  insane 
asylum,  where  you  cruelly  placed  him." 

"  He  is  already " 

Blanche  Vansant,  about  to  reveal  the  truth  and 
state  that  he  was  already  free,  paused  abruptly. 

Towner  had  made  her  a  quick  sign  to  silence. 
Not  for  a  moment  did  he  doubt  Myrtle  Blake'9 
words;  he  even  exaggerated  his  peril  in  his  own 


FACE   TO    FACE.  163 

mind,  but  he  also  imagined  he  saw  a  way  to  outwit 
his  new  and  resolute  foe. 

"  Suppose  I  should  acknowledge  all  your  state- 
ments—  that  I  am  an  impostor,  and  send  you  to 
Percy  Grey,  would  you  then  retract  your  state- 
ments to  the  officers  you  have  called  into  your 
service?" 

"  No,"  replied  Myrtle,  coldly.  "  You  have  driven 
me  to  extreme  measures,  and  I  shall  make  no 
mistakes.  You  must  send  a  letter  that  will  bring 
Percy  Grey  here.  Oh!  I  can  read  you  plottings  in 
your  crafty  eyes.  You  shall  not  outwit  me  again. 
You  shall  not  gain  one  concession  from  me  until 
I  see  the  man  you  have  so  cruelly  wronged  at 
liberty." 

She  walked  again  to  the  window,  as  if  to  see  that 
the  men  she  claimed  to  have  called  to  her  aid  were 
still  there. 

Blanche  Vansant  took  advantage  of  the  moment 
to  glide  to  Towner's  side. 

"  Does  she  speak  the  truth?"  she  whispered  in 
his  ear. 

"Undoubtedly." 

"  Then  our  escape  is  cut  off?" 

"  No;  all  may  not  be  lost  yet.  No  violence  yet," 
he  said,  hastily,  as  Blanche's  hand  was  revealed 
grasping  a  dagger  in  the  folds  of  her  dress.  She 
confesses  that  she  has  not  told  all  to  the  police. 
Suppose  we  defy  her!  How  can  she  prove  me  to 
be  other  than  Percy  Grey?" 

"You  forget." 

"  What?" 

"  The  real  Percy  Grey. " 

"  He  may  be  recaptured;  he  may  not  come  here  at 
all." 

"  But  the  receipt  signed  with  his  name  indicates 
that  he  has  visited  the  mansion  surreptitiously." 

"  May  not  this  woman  have  signed  the  paper  and 


1 64  FACE   TO   FACE. 

have  abstracted  the  money.  Silence!  Let  me  deal 
with  her." 

Myrtle  Blake  had  turned  from  the  window  and 
advanced  toward  them.  Her  face  was  impenetrable, 
her  manner  cold  and  uncompromising. 

"  We  have  allowed  you  to  go  on  in  your  bold 
course,"  said  Towner  at  once.  "  We  have  heard 
your  claims,  and  we  deny  them  and  defy  you." 

"  You  defy  me?" 

"Yes." 

"  You  invite  the  interference  of  the  law?" 

"Yes." 

Myrtle's  face  expressed  a  vague  surprise. 

"  So  be  it,"  she  said,  advancing  toward  the  door, 
as  if  to  leave  the  house.  "  You  must  answer  to 
justice  what  I  demand  —  the  release  of  Percy 
Grey." 

"  I  am  Percy  Grey." 

"A  falsehood!  You  can  never  sustain  the  im- 
position." 

"  I  can,  and  will.  Prove,  if  you  can,  that  I  am 
not  he." 

Myrtle  Blake  was  disquieted  as  she  realized  how 
much  he  resembled  Percy  Grey. 

"Then,"  she  said,  boldly,  "if  the  law  fails  to 
prove  you  Earle  Towner,  I  will  still  defeat  your 
plans!" 

"  How?" 

"  By  claiming  to  be  Percy  Grey's  wife.  If  you 
are  he " 

Towner  started  and  uttered  a  cry  of  dismay  as 
he  divined  the  contingencies  of  his  position. 

"  If  you  are  he,"  continued  Myrtle,  "  I  demand 
that  you  acknowledge  me  as  your  wife." 

It  was  a  bold  move,  a  last  desperate  resort  to 
bring  the  schemer  to  terms. 

"  I  demand,  as  your  wife,  that  you  divide  the 
fortune  stolen  from  Percy  Grey." 


NEARING  THE   END.  1 65 

Fatal  words. 

At  that  moment  a  form  that  had  haunted  the 
mansion  unseen  for  some  time  had  come  to  the 
curtained  entrance  to  the  drawing-rooms. 

Unseen  by  the  engrossed  occupants,  his  pale  face 
grew  horrified  as  he  heard  these  last  words. 

"  Great  heavens!  "  he  gasped  forth;  "  she,  too,  in 
the  plot —  she  says  she  is  his  wife!  " 

He  staggered  into  view  suddenly. 

"  Plotters!  assassins!  "  he  cried  wildly,  "  behold 
your  victim! " 

An  awful  shuddering  cry  escaped  from  Blanche 
Vansant's  lips,  while  Earle  Towner  shrank  back  as 
if  dealt  a  sudden  blow. 

"  Merciful  heavens!  "  he  gasped;  "  Percy  Grey!  " 

Myrtle  stood  transfixed  for  a  moment,  her  eyes 
riveted  on  the  pale,  wretched  man  she  had  once 
called  her  husband.  Then,  with  one  wild,  surging 
cry  of  joy,  she  sprang  toward  him. 

An  insane  light  gleamed  in  Percy  Grey's  eyes. 

"  Back!  "  he  almost  shrieked,  "  traitress,  fellow- 
schemer  of  these  murderous  fiends!  It  was  you 
who  betrayed  me  to  my  doom!  " 

An  appalled  cry  rang  from  Myrtle  Blake's  lips. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

NEARING  THE   END. 

THE  crisis  they  had  feared  had  certainly  come  to 
the  baffled  plotters,  and  they  seemed  to  realize  it 
fully  as  they  gazed  upon  the  victim  of  their  past 
cruelty. 

He  was  pale  and  thin,  and  his  step  was  unsteady 
as  he  stood  gazing  at  them,  but  the  wild  gleaming 
light  in  his  eyes  spoke  of  the  determination  and 
vengeful  hatred  of  a  desperate  man. 


166  NEARING  THE   END. 

"  You  shall  all  suffer  for  the  wrong  you  have  done 
me,"  he  cried.  "  Do  not  approach  me,  traitress!  " 
he  ejaculated,  as  Myrtle  clasped  her  hands  in  mute 
entreaty.  "  You  have  doomed  me  to  a  living  death; 
you  plotted  for  my  fortune,  but  you  are  baffled, 
foiled!" 

"  Not  I;  not  I;  oh!  Percy,  my  love,  my  own,  I 
have  been  true  to  you  —  I  have  suffered  almost 
death  for  your  dear  sake." 

Percy  Grey's  eyes  rested  on  Myrtle  in  vague  in- 
credulity. 

"  Do  not  attempt  to  deceive  me,"  he  uttered 
hoarsely,  "  for  the  entire  truth  justice  will  soon  re- 
veal, and  it  will  not  avail  you." 

"I  swear  that  I  speak  truly!"  cried  Myrtle 
fervently. 

"  Then  why  have  you  claimed  that  man,  that 
impostor,  as  your  husband?  " 

"Because  he  defied  me  to  prove  that  he  was  not 
Percy  Grey;  because,  driven  to  desperation,  I  de- 
termined tp  punish  him  in  any  way,  at  any  sacrifice, 
to  defeat  his  plots.  You  doubt  me  still?  Your 
eyes  bespeak  reproach.  Know,  then,  that  all  this 
I  have  done,  and  yet  you  had  no  claim  npon  me. 
I  am  not  even  your  wife.  The  marriage  ceremony 
which  seemingly  made  me  the  bride  of  an  hour  was 
fraudulent,  a  farce  devised  by  our  mutual  enemy, 
Bryce  Williard. " 

Before  the  amazed  Percy  Grey  and  the  discom- 
fited plotters  Myrtle  Blake  poured  forth  the  eloquent 
story  of  the  past.  As  the  former  listened  the  light 
of  restored  confidence  and  love  illumined  his  face, 
while  the  schemers  grew  pale  and  concerned. 

Earle  Towner  had  stealthily  glided  toward  the 
door  and  eagerly  seized  a  package  Percy  Grey  had 
dropped  from  his  hand  amid  his  excitement. 

"The  money!"  he  muttered  to  Blanche;  "we 
must  make  a  bold  dash  for  liberty.  Come." 


NEARING   THE   END.  l5/ 

He  himself  succeeded  in  reaching  the  hall.  As 
Blanche  Vansant  attempted  to  follow  him,  with  a 
sudden  spring  Percy  Grey  reached  her. 

His  eyes  gleaming  with  the  resentment  of  wrongs 
long  endured,  his  hands  grasped  her  arm  and 
dragged  her  forcibly  back  into  the  room. 

"  You  shall  not  go,  fiend!  Siren,  you  shall  listen 
to  my  condemnation  ere  I  hand  you  over  to  the 
law." 

Blanche  struggled  wildly. 

"  Help,  Earle,  help!  "  she  cried  frantically  to  her 
fugitive  accomplice. 

But  Earle  Towner,  with  the  innate  treachery  ot  a 
scoundrel,  had  sought  only  his  own  safety  in  flight. 

"  For  all  the  crimes  you  have  committed  against 
me  and  mine,  you  shall  suffer  deeply,"  cried  Percy. 
"  Do  not  fear,  Myrtle,  I  shall  not  do  violence  to  this 
creature.  Justice  shall  avenge  our  wrongs.  Listen, 
fiend,  to  the  long  record  of  intrigue  and  crime." 

He  paused  suddenly.  His  hands  relaxed  his 
clasp  of  Blanche  Vansant's  arm,  and  he  grew  deathly 
pale.  He  staggered  back,  his  eyes  closed,  and  he 
sank  to  the  floor  a  dead  weight. 

"  He  is  dead!  You  have  killed  him!  "  cried 
Myrtle,  frantically. 

About  to  fly,  a  crafty  light  came  into  Blanche 
Vansant's  eyes. 

She  thrust  Myrtle  from  her  path  and  stood  tri- 
umphantly over  Percy  Grey. 

"  My  place  is  with  him,  for  I  am  his  wife." 

"You!  "cried  Myrtle. 

"Yes.  If  your  early  marriage  with  him  was  a 
fraud,  his  second  marriage  with  myself  was  legal. 
Ah,  you  pale.  I  am  the  victor  again.  He  dares 
not,  he  cannot  prosecute  his  own  wife.  I  shall  yet 
share  his  fortune!  " 

"  Call  for  help;  he  may  die -" 


168  TRAPPED. 

"  And  if  he  does,  all  the  better  for  me!  "  cried  the 
heartless  siren.  "  As  Percy  Grey's  widow,  I  would 
be  the  heiress  to  all  his  fortune!  " 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

TRAPPED. 

AT  the  very  moment  that  the  exciting  scene  de- 
scribed in  the  previous  chapter  was  taking  place, 
the  elements  of  a  new  and  deft  plot  were  in  progress 
in  the  near  vicinity  of  the  Towner  mansion. 

As  Earle  Towner  had  told  Blanche  Vansant,  he 
had  ordered  the  carriage  ready,  and  for  over  an  hour 
the  coachman  had  been  seated  on  the  box  of  the 
family  vehicle  at  the  rear  of  the  house  awaiting 
orders. 

He  had  dismounted  at  last,  impatient  at  the  long 
delay  of  Towner,  and  paced  the  stone-paved  court 
restlessly. 

Darkness  had  come  down  over  the  scene  and  he 
did  not  notice  that  a  cloaked  form  had  stealthily 
gained  the  court  and  was  regarding  the  rear  win- 
dows of  the  mansion  with  a  searching  glance. 

"  I'm  getting  chilled  and  tired  of  waiting,"  the 
coachman  muttered.  "  I  don't  believe  Towner  wil 
go  out  until  after  dinner.  I  guess  I'll  hurry  around 
to  the  corner  and  get  a  drink  to  warm  me  up. " 

As  he  disappeared,  the  cloaked  stranger  came 
out  from  the  deep  shadow  of  the  laboratory  struc- 
ture, and  started  toward  the  mansion. 

He  drew  back  somewhat  dismayed  as  a  hurrying 
figure  came  from  the  house. 

It  was  Earle  Towner,  and  he  discovered  the 
stranger  as  he  reached  the  carriage. 

"  Quick!  "  he  ordered,  hoarsely,  evidently  mis- 
taking the  latter  for  the  coachman  amid  his  excite- 


TRAPPED.  169 

ment.  "  Drive  to  the  nearest  railroad  station  as 
fast  as  you  can." 

The  stranger  paused  irresolutely.  Then,  a  wild 
glitter  of  the  keenest  satisfaction  in  his  eyes,  he 
sprang  to  the  box  and  seized  the  reins. 

"  Earle  Towner,  and  evidently  about  to  escape," 
he  muttered.  "  I'll  spoil  his  scheme,  and  settle 
Blanche  Vansant's  affairs  later. " 

He  drove  from  the  court  and  out  upon  the  street. 
A  few  minutes  later  he  turned  into  a  side  street. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  cried  Towner,  leaning 
excitedly  from  the  carriage  window. 

"  A  short  cut  to  the  depot,  sir,"  came  the  assur- 
ing reply,  in  a  feigned  tone  of  voice. 

The  vehicle  came  to  an  abrupt  halt  at  last. 

The  pretended  coachman  sprang  to  the  curb 
almost  as  soon  as  it  stopped. 

Earle  Towner  looked  out  with  a  surprised,  irri- 
tated expression  on  his  face. 

"  This  is  not  the  depot,"  he  said,  and  then  he 
started  as  he  recognized  the  building  before  which 
they  had  stopped. 

It  was  a  gloomy,  ominous-looking  structure,  and 
a  large  lamp  in  front  bore  the  words  "  Police  Sta- 
tion." 

"  What  does  this  mean,"  began  Towner.  "  Who 
are  you?  Not  the  watchman?  " 

"  No,  Earle  Towner,"  came  the  cool  response; 
"get  out." 

"  Who  are  you,  I  say?     What  does  this  mean?" 

"  You  shall  soon  know.  " 

Towner  took  a  quick  alarm,  and  made  a  move- 
ment as  if  to  escape  by  the  opposite  door  of  the 
vehicle. 

"  Halt,  and  obey  me,  or  you  are  a  dead  man!  " 
spoke  the  stranger,  ominously. 

Earle  Towner  uttered  a  cry  of  despair  as  his  cap- 
tor drew  a  revolver. 


I/O  TRAPPED. 

Before  its  menacing  glitter  he  stepped  from  the 
carriage. 

"  There  is  some  mistake  here,"  he  said,  attempt- 
ing to  regain  his  composure.  "  I  presume  you  are 
a  detective?  " 

"  No,  I  am  no  detective." 

"Who,  then?" 

"  Your  enemy  and  that  of  your  evil-hearted  ac- 
complice, Blanche  Vansant.  I  am  Bryce  Williard." 

A  shudder  passed  over  the  frame  of  Towner. 
With  a  sullen  face  he  allowed  his  captor  to  lead  him 
into  the  police  station. 

He  did  not  hear  Bryce  Williard's  whispered  ex- 
planation to  the  captain  of  police.  He  believed 
silence  to  be  prudent  under  the  circumstances,  and 
was  led  to  a  cell  a  minute  later. 

"  I  will  return  in  an  hour  and  explain  all  about 
this  case,"  said  Williard  to  the  officer.  "  It  is  a 
case  where  you  need  have  no  fear  of  imprisoning 
the  man  on  my  representations. " 

He  drove  rapidly  back  to  the  mansion,  and 
gained  an  entrance  to  the  library,  and  then  to  the 
hall. 

As  he  reached  the  door  of  the  drawing-rooms 
and  peered  in,  a  dramatic  tableau  met  his  gaze. 

Percy  Grey,  recovered  from  his  swoon,  sat  gaz- 
ing blankly  at  Myrtle  Blake  and  Blanche  Vansant. 

"  I  defy  you,"  the  latter  was  saying;  "  you  cannot 
testify  against  me;  I,  your  legal  wife,  Percy  Grey." 

"But  I  can!  " 

As  he  spoke  the  words,  Bryce  Williard  stepped 
into  view. 

"  You,  Bryce  Williard!  "  cried  Blanche,  wildly, 
while  Myrtle  shrank  back  affrighted. 

"  Yes,  I,  your  enemy,  sworn  to  avenge  your  base 
treachery.  Your  accomplice,  Earle  Towner,  is  a 
prisoner  in  the  hands  of  the  police,  and  I  will  not 
spare  you." 


TRAPPED.  171 

With  a  wild  cry  of  rage  the  baffled  siren  sprang 
toward  the  new-comer. 

As  she  did  so  her  hand  flashed  forth  the  glitter- 
ing blade  of  a  jeweled  stiletto. 

Before  Williard  could  repulse  her,  it  descended 
on  his  unsheltered  breast. 

He  sank  back  as  the  blood  gushed  forth  from  a 
fatal  wound. 

"  Siren!  Murderess!  you  have  killed  me!"  he 
gasped. 

At  this  moment  the  horrified  Myrtle  and  Percy 
were  startled  by  a  quick  ring  at  the  door-bell. 

The  former  glided  from  the  room  and  soon  re- 
appeared. 

"  The  police!  "  she  murmured,  as  two  men  fol- 
lowed her  into  the  apartment. 

Blanche  Vansant,  fairly  at  bay,  stood  facing 
them  defiantly. 

Bryce  Williard  staggered  to  his  feet,  gasping  for 
breath. 

With  a  desperate  cry  he  drew  the  weapon  from 
the  wound  in  his  breast. 

Then,  with  one  last  dying  effort,  he  reeled  to 
the  side  of  Blanche  Vansant. 

His  fingers  clutched  her  convulsively,  the  death- 
rattle  in  his  throat.  He  raised  the  weapon  and 
dealt  her  a  quick  blow. 

Bathed  in  blood,  Blanche  Vansant  uttered  a  cry 
of  mortal  pain  as  Williard  fell  dead  at  her  feet. 


CONCLUSION. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

CONCLUSION. 

"  THE  woman  is  dying,  the  man  is  dead." 

It  was  one  of  the  police  officers  who  made  the 
announcement. 

Bryce  Williard  lay  motionless  on  the  floor,  while 
his  victim,  Blanche  Vansant,  was  convulsed  in  the 
throes  of  the  death  agony  on  a  sofa  to  which  the 
officers  had  removed  her. 

"  I  will  not  die!  "  she  raved  frantically.  "  Yon- 
der pale-faced  child  shall  not  triumph.  Williard, 
coward,  assassin,  you  have  foiled  me  at  the  last." 

Even  in  her  dying  moments  her  evil  nature  was 
dominant.  There  was  no  remorse,  and  Percy  Grey, 
overcome  by  the  horrors  of  the  scene,  led  Myrtle 
from  the  apartment  as  one  of  the  officers  went  for 
a  surgeon.  But  the  guilty  siren  died  ere  medical 
aid  could  reach  her,  and  one  hour  later  Williard 
and  his  victim  were  removed  to  the  morgue. 

In  the  library  of  theTowner  mansion,  that  night, 
a  long  and  interesting  consultation  was  held. 

The  captain  of  police  was  sent  for,  and  to  him  in 
detail  Percy  and  Myrtle  went  over  all  the  past 
plottings  of  their  enemies  and  their  own  sufferings. 

Percy  Grey  cleared  up  all  the  dark  mysteries  of 
the  past.  He  explained  away  all  his  seeming  faith- 
lessness to  Myrtle,  and  told  how,  after  meeting  her 
at  the  grave,  Earle  Towner  had  removed  him  to 
a  private  insane  asylum,  whence  he  had  escaped  the 
night  previous  and  found  his  way  into  the  Towner 
mansion. 

Myrtle  related  all  that  has  been  already  told  to 
the  reader,  and  in  addition  narrated  how  she  had 
called  the  police  to  her  assistance  and  had  surrepti- 
tiously entered  the  house,  with  the  results  already 
seen. 


CONCLUSION.  173 

It  was  a  sleepless  night  for  all  the  inmates  of  the 
mansion.  With  the  morrow  the  last  act  of  the  dire- 
ful tragedy  was  closed,  for  Earle  Towner  com- 
mitted suicide  in  his  prison  cell. 

With  his  former  accomplices  he  was  buried  the 
ensuing  day,  and  the  money  he  had  sought  to  es- 
cape with  was  returned  to  the  Towner  estate. 

One  week  after  there  was  a  quiet  wedding  at  the 
mansion,  and  at  last  Percy  Grey  claimed  for  life  the 
bride  he  had  won  and  lost  in  a  single  hour  in  the 
far  past. 

They  did  not  remain  amid  the  scenes  which  for 
the  present  brought  vague  memories  to  their  minds, 
but  made  a  tour  through  the  South,  returning  later 
to  secure  a  pleasant  home  near  Chicago,  where 
their  love-life  had  first  begun. 

One  day  a  strangely,  unexpected  letter  was  re- 
ceived by  Percy  Grey.  It  made  himself  and  his 
beautiful  wife  sad  and  happy  at  the  same  time. 

It  was  from  a  man  in  the  far  West,  and  it  stated 
that  it  was  written  at  the  request  of  a  dying  man  — 
John  Blake. 

It  narrated  that  Blake  had  not  been  killed  by  the 
railroad  accident,  but  had  received  injuries  which 
rendered  him  temporarily  insane. 

He  had  wandered  to  the  West,  and  in  a  mining 
camp,  while  still  insane,  had  been  met  and  recog- 
nized by  the  faithful  Ansel  Grey. 

The  latter  had  cared  for  him  and  nursed  him 
back  to  health,  and  later,  in  defending  him  in  a 
fight  with  Indians,  was  killed. 

Dying,  Blake  forgave  his  old-time  enemy  who 
had  so  wronged  him  in  the  past,  and  removed  the 
venom  of  his  hatred  from  Percy  Grey. 

Life  began  in  earnest  for  the  hearts  at  last  re- 
united. 

In  the  long  golden  years  of  the  future  they  knew 
the  reward  of  right  triumphing  over  wrong,  and 


174  CONCLUSION. 

happiness    and   joy   brooded    over    their   peaceful 
home. 

But,  amid  its  delights,  Myrtle  Grey  never  forgot 
the  time  when  she  was  the  humble  Cinderella,  and 
was  a  victim  to  the  tragic  plots  of  heartless  schem- 
ers which  nearly  wrecked  her  young  life  upon  a 
Weird  Wedding  Night. 


N ana's  Daughter, 

A  STORY  OF  PARISIAN  LIFE. 

—BY- 
ALFRED  SIRVEN  AND  HENRI  LEVERDIER, 

With  a  letter  from  the  authors  to  M.  Emile  Zola. 
TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  2Uth  FRENCH  EDITION. 


When  M.  Emile  Zola  wrote  "  Nana,"  the  world  thought  that  no  truer 
photograph  of  the  kaleidoscopic  life  which  is  so  truly  and  essentially 
Parisian  could  be  brought  out  by  any  other  author.  It  remained  for 
Alfred  Sirven  and  Henri  Leverdier  to  combine  French  wit,  ingenuity  and 
realistic  word-painting  to  disapprove  this  opinion. 

"  NANA'S  DAUGHTER,"  by  these  gentlemen,  faithfully  portrays,  with 
graphic  lights  and  shadows,  that  zone  of  Parisian  life  from  which  the  beau 
ntonde  gathers  all  that  is  chic,  Frenchy  and  worldly. 

The  character  of  Nana' :  daughter,  in  vivid  contrast  to  her  mother, 
that  queen  of  the  demi-monde,  shines  like  a  pure  crystal  amid  the  sordid 
surroundings  and  demoniacal  plots  which  at  times  almost  engulphed  her, 
and,  irredescent  to  the  last,  remains  untarnished  and  spotless,  a  tribute  to 
virtue. 

The  book  maintains  its  thrilling  interest  to  the  very  end.  The  charac- 
ters are  skillfully  sketched,  and  the  plot  most  interestingly  complicated. 


FOR  SALE  ON  ALL  TRAINS,  AND  BY  ALL  BOOKSELLERS. 

Sent  by  mail  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price. 

LAIRD  &  LEE,  Publishers, 

CHICAGO. 


POLYGAMIST  MORMONS ! 

HOW  THEY  LIVE 

AND 

THE  LAND  THEY  LIVE  IN. 

BY  FRED.  E.  BENNETT, 

DEPUTY  UNITED  STATES  MARSHAL. 


The  author  of  this  interesting  narrative  has,  in  graphic  language,  faitK 
fully  depicted  the  stirring  and  exciting  life  he  leads  in  ferreting  out,  with 
keen  detective  ability,  the  necessary  evidence  to  convict  the  polygamous 
mormons,  who  rebelled  against  Federal  authority.  In  his  experience  as 
Deputy  United  States  Marshal  he  arrested  forty  offenders,  some  of  them 
the  most  notorious  of  this  notorious  people.  The  Mountain  Meadow 
Massacre,  that  most  foul  blot  on  the  history  of  the  great  West,  is,  in  these 
pages,  told  in  all  its  atrocious  reality,  and  with  dramatic  skill.  The  secrets 
of  the  celebrated  and  mysterious  Endowment  House  are  herein  unfolded, 
and  the  manners,  customs  and  life  of  this  peculiar  people  are  told  with 
candor  and  truth.  The  graphic  descriptions  of  the  great  West  is  of  itself 
valuable  to  tourists  and  home- seekers.  The  reader  may  say,  in  all  due 
sincerity,  that  "  Truth  is  stranger  than  fiction,"  when  reading  the  stirring 
incidents  and  almost;. incredible  account  of  the  mormons,  but  Mr.  Bennett 
has  simply  thrown  the  clear  light  of  investigation  on  this  "  dark  stain  on 
our  country's  escutcheon,"  and  placed  it  before  the  public  in  a  most  fas- 
cinating manner. 

Printed  in  large  type  on  good  paper,  fully  illustrated,  and  elegantly 
bound  in  extra  cloth,  with  ink  and  gold  side  and  back  stamps. 

PRICE  $1.5O. 

We  want  agents  to  handle  this  book,  to  whom  we  offer  most  liberal 
terms. 

For  sale  on  all  railroads  and  at  all  book  stores,  or  will  be  sent  by  mail 
postpaid  on  receipt  of  price. 

ERIRD  *  nee,  polishers, 

COR.  CLARK  AND  ADAMS  STS.  CHICAGO. 


^fc.  ^^  F3«r"N   rjr-^- 

-  s  M  ^vw^P^^vP 

*jNr  iPM^^-W 

.•~V.      v 

^Sfefa*^ 

-c«,.--. 


J         /*^W"  V  ^-_v^    ~   ^      ; 

^fen 

,/^nf  -^*  <•  -!>•»  w^s^>k^^<  -^"/^.r*  vt-*^  •-•^•^f  w\-  v  *^*?"    !c?^  "< 


*^^,^f,i^;  Vv-v,*^- '.^j&T  .  K*^^^Z^^&^£  *&%** 


ifS^PwP 

Ss*»JL -AV   vd-r-       \J%L^/~  -** 


I  }&  >  <^^s?t?fc  ^  ty  ^"Jt/^  ^tW  -*^§!^^  -ifel 

PfilrS  ^^^^^^v^^^^^^^ 

]S^S^  iP1       T&f^:^^'  t^  4^*T^^^^r    \  ^  xT  "^S^Sr^  i 


)€e&^^)€l^5^>€§>^^)€ 


•""      Vx  A>2»- 5*^6*^"  .  WY^Jr    2K/>-       ^«-v^&- 

. 

»^  ^•"^ g^/y^y   V*  %- 


